


Unnecessary Shadows

by Deadly Night_Sh1ft (CrookedMath)



Series: Unnecessary Shadows [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Clones, Destruction, Devotion, Disembowelment, Dismemberment, Dreams vs. Reality, Empath, Erotica, Eugenics, Experimental Drugs, F/F, F/M, Fictional Religion & Theology, Flashbacks, I REGRET NOTHING, Intrigue, Kidnapping, Light Masochism, Memory Loss, Mentions of Necrophilia, Mind Control, Past Sexual Abuse, Premonition of Own Death, Psychokenesis, Rape, Reapers, Romance, Sabotage, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Suicide, Trichophilia, Yurei, Yuri, envy - Freeform, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 09:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 84,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6899704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrookedMath/pseuds/Deadly%20Night_Sh1ft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her mind is a weapon, the ultimate weapon. After years of enduring torture at the hands of those who created her, she escapes only to find herself taking refuge in a mortuary where she meets a silver haired man that both scares and captivates her. As the days go by, the secrets of her past are slowly returning to her defective memory, and yet the mortician is ever present in her life. But when he finds out the truth of what she truly is beneath the years of torture, will he still be there?</p><p>*In this story, Yurei/Ikiryo are loosely based on the Japanese myths of which they represent*</p><p>***DISCLAIMER*** I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters. That honor goes to Yana Toboso.</p><p>Yay! Updated summary!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fear

**Author's Note:**

> My OC's inner thoughts will be framed by ~
> 
> Suicide via mind control contained herein. You have been warned.

The petite black eyed woman stared harshly at her assailant.

~And every time your father touched you in your forbidden place, you hated it.~

The knife wielding man stopped his advances on the cornered woman in the darkened alley. Fear, doubt, and shame began to boil to the surface. Her blackened eyes seemingly bore into his soul as she continued.

~But as you got older his visits to your forbidden place were less frequent. You found yourself wanting-no, needing-your father's touch. He became a narcotic to you, but when a new woman-~

The male's face contorted into an anguished grimace. "Stop it! Stop! Stop! Stop!" He cried out, tearing at his hair. "Shut the fuck up! You don't know anything!"

The whites of the petite's eyes went black. ~Your father's new wife detracted most of his attention from you~ she continued from deep within his subconscious. ~That's why you do what you do. That's why you violate and destroy women.~

The violator felt his knife move to his neck on its own. He stared at the petite woman with blackened orbs, an ashamed expression with glazed eyes of unshed tears etched onto his ruddy face. The woman remained still, hands by her sides, and completely expressionless. The filthy man's eyes seemed to plead for mercy as he pressed his knife deeper into his neck. A bead of blood was visible on his skin. Satisfied, the petite continued, ~Why not destroy yourself? You're so much like 'daddy'.~ Her voice seemed to sneer at him from inside his subconscious. ~He ended his affection with an opposite. Do the same, 'daddy's boy', and destroy yourself. You've already started, so finish it already. Think about it, you die a free man, but you'll end up in Hell. Don't worry, I heard they have air conditioning. So, hurry it along, finish what you started, you piece of shit!~

Despite the woman's expressionless features there was something about those blackened eyes that invoked deep feelings of shame and self loathing about his past. On top of that, he felt tremendous guilt for the brutal rapes and murders that he had committed, whereas before those feelings were conspicuously absent. Wracked by this sudden influx of emotion and this seemingly demonic girl staring him down, sifting through his mind and unlocking the secret places; the compulsion to escape was overwhelming. In fact, it was necessary. If he didn't escape now, how else could he live with all that had just flooded in on him like a tsunami?

"A-are you some kind of demon?" the assailant fearfully demanded. Tears slipped from his eyes as he slowly backed away from the black clad woman into the wall.

~No, I'm just a friend.~ Her voice seemed pleased with itself.

The male felt his hand move as if someone else was controlling it, but deep down he knew it was his own doing. More tears were silently flowing as he applied significantly greater pressure to the knife, dragging it across his neck, effectively severing his jugular, followed by his windpipe and carotid artery in one quick deep slice. The last thing he saw before collapsing to the ground in the dirty, darkened back alley of a London road near the mortuary was a pale flash in the woman's eyes as they turned to a mismatched blue and green from the black he'd been accustomed to all evening. He noticed a subtle glow in the shocked female's eyes. He opened his mouth to say something but forgot he severed his windpipe when he cut his throat. The unsatisfied curiosity about the lady in black was the last thing on the dying rapist's mind as he faded from this mortal coil.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The petite woman remained frozen in place with a look of horror painted on her delicate features. She was too terrified to scream.

~Not again. Not again. Not again. But what was I supposed to do?~

As the pool of blood spread and began touching the toe of her worn out black heels, she ran blindly from the alleyway to the first place she saw. Instinct always took over in times like these.

The female looked around and realized that her refuge was a funeral parlor. And a scary looking one at that. It was very dimly lit with coffins of various sizes strewn about the floor and shelves with jars containing various items (some of which appeared to house human organs) striped the walls in random places. Many tomes of books, mostly on anatomy, lined shelves on the wall behind a coffin serving as a desk. She was frightened of this place, but even more so of leaving it. Worse yet, night had already fallen, so she was virtually trapped here. There was no sign of the person who ran the place, so she cautiously walked around the room with the intention of finding a place to hide until morning. She desperately needed to calm down in case the shop owner showed up. She didn't want to be an unnecessary burden on anyone.

~Why can't I be left in peace?~

Just as she was settled in between two coffins and softly crying to herself, a creaking noise was heard from somewhere across the room followed by the sound of swishing.

~Is it fabric? A dress, maybe? Pants don't sound like that.~

Assuming the sounds belonged to a female, the petite remained in her hiding place and resumed her guilty release until a distinctly male voice made her sobbing cease in an instant, although her tears still rained from her eyes in a silent downpour of guilt, sadness, and confusion.

"What do we have here? Hehehe."

The lavender haired female shrunk into herself further as the tall, grinning man in black continued his approach. She was still far too petrified and confused to respond to the male who was now standing directly in front of her, blocking any chance she had at escaping. The female hugged her knees closer to her body and lowered her head, vaguely aware of her tears dotting the dusty floor. Thick tendrils of silver languidly entered her peripheral vision. She realized the black clad man was sitting on his haunches in order to be level with her, but despite his attempt, he still towered over her.

~Please don't touch me. I don't want to know what you're thinking. Oh Goddess, please don't touch me!~

Long, slender fingers tipped with ebony talons lightly grazed over her cheek and came to a stop under her chin, sending shivers down her spine. The woman's head was gently being tilted upward to look her curious companion in the... bangs? He no doubt had eyes hidden behind the shaggy curtain of silver covering half of his pale face. In the dimly lit room the odd top hat the silver haired male wore cast unnecessary shadows over his face. The petite woman tried to turn her head away since she could no longer stand the mixed feelings running amok inside of her.

~Oh Goddess, he's beautiful, but frightening. He's so lone-... it's gone. I can't read him anymore. Can't he stop fucking staring at me?~

The female realized her mismatched eyes were glowing slightly brighter than usual. It was a different kind of bright, something she wasn't accustomed to, but it happened after the mortician touched her face with the same care and delicacy one would use when handling a porcelain doll. She blushed slightly at the thought, but still couldn't help but be scared witless just the same. A pale, grinning face was within inches of hers. The male very gently cupped her face in his hands so he could get a better look at her, and when he did, his ever present grin disappeared.

~Can this day get any worse?~

"My, my, what lovely eyes," the man in the long tailed top hat mused. He was kneeling in front of her now to have an even closer look at her tear stained face. The unnecessary shadows became less disturbing when he cocked his head to the side allowing the small amount of light in the room to illuminate his ghostly features. "What is your name, m'dear?"

The petite female felt his hands smoothly remove themselves from her face. The faint feeling of his long nails against her skin dusted her cheeks with a touch of pink and sent chills down her spine. "January," she replied in a meek whisper. "My name is January." She finally mustered the courage to look directly at the silver haired male. The lavender haired female marveled at what beauty of his that was unobscured: pale skin, defined, angular jaw, slightly upturned mouth, a scar around his neck and one bisecting his face diagonally from his right jaw over the bridge of his nose to most likely over his left eye. She wished she could see his eyes, but she made no demand of him. Nevertheless, she did reach up below his bangs without exposing his eyes, seeking out the fine line of marred flesh underneath. Once her small fingers found their target, she delicately traced the scar's path as her eyes glowed curiously. "You're lovely, too. What am I supposed to call you?" She giggled nervously and continued to slowly and delicately trace the line of marred flesh across the mortician's face.

The mortician closed his eyes behind the curtain of silver and felt his self control begin to make its egress as her soft fingertips slowly moved closer to his jaw. He was not about to protest the lavender haired woman's gentle touch. It had been far too long since he'd been shown that kind of affection by anyone, male or female. Sensing his inner tension, the petite female quickly withdrew her fingers from his scarred face while mumbling an apology of some sort. The lavender haired lady was amusing in his opinion, but there was something more to her than that, something enigmatic. There was also an aura of fear surrounding her, though she directed it at him, it ran even deeper. He pushed his reverie to the back of his mind for the time being. "Undertaker," the mortician replied to the woman in the long, black dress. "I must say that you're the first person I've seen in my humble little shop to desire a fitting between two coffins rather than inside of only one. Ehehehehe." The man rose to his feet and held out his hand offering to assist the petite, but she remained frozen in place. "Suit yourself." He shrugged. "I'll go make us some tea."

The mortician turned around and walked away leaving the woman hypnotized by the thigh length silver hair swaying back and forth over his long, flowing black robes. Feeling as though her mind were in a daze, she finally got up and followed the sound of his heavy boots clunking on the hardwood floor in tandem with the mourning lockets lightly clinking against one another from a chain dangling over one side of his narrow hips. She itched to feel the gray sash slung diagonally over his body, secured by a knot opposite the locket chain. Did the man of unnecessary shadows prefer gossamer softness? Is that why he was a mortician dressed as a funeral mute? Or did he prefer both? He was strange and beautiful.

~As if I'm one to talk. I did it again. I became the voice again. An involuntary death knell. But they bring it on themselves. Still it's no reason...~

She began to cry again. Damn these emotions. Damn them! She wished she had never existed, then she never would have been part of the eugenics program-an experiment-against her will. She wished she could live in peace, instead her mind was a weapon, and she was cursed with her own internal warfare. The man with silver hair

~Beautiful, long, silver hair.~

was dangerous in his own way, yet kind and intended her no harm. Trusting her senses, she kept following him, but stopped just short of what she assumed was the kitchen area. This was not her home, therefore, she would not intrude any more than she had already. Bearing that in mind, the small woman awkwardly perched herself atop a coffin and waited patiently for her host to bring out the refreshments.


	2. Wormwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *

The mortician brought out a tray with two beakers of tea and an urn of what appeared to be dog biscuits and placed the tray on the coffin across from the sullen woman. She absently stared at her host's long fingers as they wrapped themselves around a beaker of tea. To her, the way each finger individually grasped the glass in languid succession was quite sensual.

~I wonder what it would feel like to be caressed by those wonderful nails? Dammit! Stop thinking this way! He'll hurt you just like everyone else does!~

A single black fingernail poked her cheek and brought her back from the armory of her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I was... lost in thought."

"It seems my lady January is quite lost indeed." The man of unnecessary shadows giggled into his overly long sleeve as he handed the lady her beaker of tea. With a total disregard for personal space, the man took what he deemed his rightful place beside the timid female with the glowing eyes. Both of them sipped tea from their respective beakers in silence for an awkward few minutes. A single small braid peeked out from beneath the mass of silver hair when her host leaned forward to retrieve the urn of dog treats. "Biscuit?" He thrust the urn uncomfortably close to her face, now having her attention focused on him.

"Undertaker, are these do-" A familiar smell invaded her senses as her eyes took on a ravenous glow at a scent only she could smell. "Wormwood."

"Hehehe! You're a sharp one, yes?" the mortician quipped, popping a biscuit into his mouth and another into hers.

The lavender haired woman's eyes glowed brighter as she slowly chewed the bone shaped treat, savoring the cinnamon and sugar flavor, and most of all the wormwood extract that it was laced with. The unnecessary shadows disappeared from her host's face as he ate more of his biscuits in curious amusement.

~Wormwood.~

The silver haired man was completely caught off guard by the small woman when she tore the urn from his grasp and devoured the remainder of the biscuits. He watched in amused fascination as this once frightened, meek woman transformed into a ravenous beast, an alluring specimen with a savage glow in her eyes. A tongue wrapping itself expertly around each of his fingers in search of tiny crumbs left behind by the wormwood laced biscuits brought his attention to his guest's actions. At first he was tempted to push her away, lest he lose all self control, but he was too fascinated by her to protest.

*My, she is a peculiar one. Heehee.*

He sat frozen in her motion, observing the way the lavender girl twisted her tongue around each of his long fingers. A shudder of delight traveled throughout the mortician's body when his companion stroked her fingers over his, then repeated the action with his other hand.

"Wormwood," she growled softly with an eerie, savage glow in her eyes.

Hypnotized by the petite's glowing eyes, the silver haired male was vaguely aware that his hat had somehow been knocked to the floor as he had been far too focused on the mismatched primal glow of beautiful ferocity. Delicate hands ever so gently cupped his face as the female leaned forward, her face inches from his, glowing blue and green eyes scanning his face before locking on to his lips. The female crawled onto the mortician's lap without breaking her gaze or letting go of his face. The intensity of her glowing eyes increased as she got closer to her prize. The madman could no longer control himself once he felt her tongue lightly trace his lips seeking the remnants of wormwood laced biscuit crumbs. The scarred man wrapped one arm around the pale woman's waist and brought the other up her back, dragging his nails along the way until he let his slender fingers find a home in her long, lavender locks. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his silver tresses, deepening their kiss.

~What am I doing?~

The female felt soft nibbles alternating with sweet kisses on her neck. Something between a sigh and a purr escaped her lips as she closed her eyes and knotted her small fingers further into the mortician's hair.

~He's so beautiful. Oh Goddess! What the hell am I doing?~

"Stop," the female demanded quietly. "I'm sorry. That was highly inappropriate of me. It's just that..." She looked at the mortician with an embarrassed flush as she scrambled to move away from him.

He simply raised an eyebrow beneath the curtain of silver over his face as a Cheshire grin slowly appeared. "Just that what, m'dear?"

"Wormwood." Blue and green eyes flashed, then settled down again.

The silver haired man fell into a raging fit of laughter. "My, my, I had no idea my biscuits would have that kind of effect on a little lady. Kehehehe." He picked his hat up from the floor and placed it back on his head.

"It's like a narcotic to my kind," January whispered more to herself than to anyone else. A few tears sprang forth from her mismatched eyes at an involuntary flash of memory from a part of her past she wished she could forget. "It's supposed to..." She trailed off.

"Don't cry now, love. There's no reason to be so upset," the man of unnecessary shadows cooed. "I don't like to see pretty young ladies cry. It's unbecoming."

"I'm nowhere near as young as I look, Undertaker," the woman in black grumbled under her breath.

The mortician pulled her into a comforting embrace. "That doesn't matter. I still don't like to see pretty ladies cry."

Something about him was soothing to the petite woman in black. It was like being in the arms of Death himself. Perhaps she was, perhaps she wasn't. Her mind was too clouded at the moment to think clearly to try to read him again. She cautiously wrapped her arms around the mortician's trim waist and silently released some of her sadness while he stroked her lavender hair. She allowed him to continue comforting her, and was surprised and glad that he didn't take advantage of her, though he could have easily done so in her vulnerable state.

~He's been nothing but sweet. Creepy, but sweet, nonetheless. And somehow, under the creepiness, he's so beautiful, but there's something deeper that I can't quite get to.~

The experimental female buried her face deeper into the mortician's robes as more sobs broke through the floodgates of her eyes. "I'm...I'm...so...sorry...to have...caused...you...so much...trouble," she said through broken sobs.

Undertaker shushed her and hugged her tighter. "There, love, you're no trouble to me." He held her close against his chest and rest his head atop hers. "You're no trouble to me at all, my love, no trouble to me at all." He gingerly placed a kiss on her forehead and continued to hold her close, and he would do so until time itself ended. But the sound of bells over the front door jingled, announcing the arrival of a new guest. "Excuse me, my lady, I believe I have a guest I must attend to. I'll return shortly. Hehehe." The lady in black blushed as the mortician rose to his feet and kissed the back of her hand before walking away, silver hair swaying fluidly over long, black flowing robes as he went.


	3. Prototypical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
> 
> "Lovely" is Undertaker's pet name for my OC, so for purposes of this story, it will be treated as a proper noun where appropriate

The petite lady in black peeked her head around the corner when she was sure the other people had vacated the premises. She cautiously shuffled into the main area of the shop carrying her beaker of tea in both hands, eyes wide in fear. "Undertaker, why were those people here?"

The mortician turned around to face his living guest with his trademark grin on his face, her flinch going unnoticed as he barely avoided hitting her in the face with his hair as it whipped around him. "Why, January, dear, they brought me a new guest to look after. Hehehehe." His Cheshire grin grew wider. "Would you like to accompany me?" A fit of mad giggles failed to be restrained as he easily lifted the makeshift coffin and carried it to the back of the shop.

~He's too strong for someone that thin. There's no way he's human. Could that be why he hides his eyes? Is that why it's so hard to read him?~

Nodding, the experiment silently followed the tall man in black. She waited anxiously as he pried the lid off the makeshift coffin while he hummed an obscure tune to himself. "Hehe, well what do we have here?" he asked more to himself than anyone else as he tossed the lid aside.

The female's curiosity was piqued when she got a glimpse of an eerie yellow green glow peeking between strands of silver as he looked inside the coffin. Mustering up the courage to satisfy her urge, she peeked over the side of the coffin to see what had the silver haired man so fascinated. Her blood ran cold upon viewing the corpse. It was one of hers. It was the man whom she had encountered in the filthy back alley earlier that evening prior to making her egress to her current refuge. Flashes of images bombarded her defective memory.

_A scraggly man with bloodshot eyes and a crazed snarl pinning her against a wall... A glint of silver...the knife blade... The crazed man appearing shocked and frightened... Tears now rolled down his remorseful face..._

_"Are you some kind of demon?"_

_Blood spurts from his throat as he cuts it from ear to ear and collapses with a look of pure terror gracing his haggard features..._

~But why? Why the sudden shift from remorse to terror?~

The experiment was defective. Pieces were missing, but what _was_ there was frightening. Moreover, how was she supposed to explain herself to Undertaker? Explanations would have to wait, however, as the lady in black collapsed to the floor sending an instrument tray flipping through the air and one scalpel lodging itself into her right side, narrowly missing her lung, while another cut a deep gash in her leg, just above the knee. 

At the sound of the commotion, the mortician spun around and found his living guest passed out and quite injured on the floor behind him. He could make out pools of blood forming beneath the petite girl with his blurry vision.

*What a strange day.*

"That wasn't very nice of you. Making pretty girls faint and hurting them isn't permissible here, chap," Undertaker admonished his guest with a frown. He made sure to cover the body and put it away as quickly as possible, thinking the condition of the corpse is what gave the young lady such a fright. After sanitizing his hands, he scooped the bleeding girl up and exited the morgue. "What is it that scared you, m'dear?" he whispered to the girl as he stroked her bloodstained lavender hair.

The mortician carefully shifted the petite figure in his arms as he opened the bedroom door, then rushed into the bathroom to start work on cleaning and bandaging her wounds. As far as he was concerned, the gash on her leg was easy to work on as it preserved the broken girl's modesty. The one in her side, however, proved to be a moral dilemma since he'd already taken a liking to her. 

*There was this feral animal that came out when she ate my cookies, but then she seems so scared and fragile at the same time. She's a starving wild animal too afraid to eat.*

"Get a hold of yourself, old man. You're trying to save her life," he scolded himself.

Hesitantly, he unbuttoned the petite's dress, then with a hushed apology pulled out the scalpel lodged in her side, and made quick work of sewing the wound back together. He realized he had nothing for her to sleep in, so he shed his cloak and wrapped it around her semi naked body mindful of her freshly stitched injuries. The man in black decided it would be more appropriate to wait until the young lady was fully conscious before allowing her to bathe. He knew he had some explaining to do once she discovered her nearly naked state concealed only by his cloak upon her arrival back into the waking world. He carried her into the bedroom and gently placed her small body on the rarely used bed and tucked her in. He silently mused at the extreme reaction she had at seeing the cadaver and the resulting freak accident that ensued. Never in all his years as an undertaker had he seen a series of events quite like today's.

*Such a strange day, indeed.*

"Nnggh...why are your shadows so unnecessary?" the female mumbled incoherently from below him.

The mortician cocked his head to the side with a curious look in his eyes lurking below his silver bangs. "What was that you said, love?" An equally curious grin crept over his face. No response followed his inquiry. He cocked his head the opposite direction like a curious puppy and asked again. He frowned a bit when he still received silence as an answer, yet his hidden eyes retained their curious glint.

*What does she mean by unnecessary shadows?*

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first month woke up groggy the following afternoon in a strange room in a strange bed with strange clothes loosely draped about her small frame. Pain jolted up and down the right side of her body and her left hand was caught in something. What it was, she knew not. She sat up as best as she could despite the pain in her side to investigate her surroundings. The afternoon sun peeked through gaps in black curtains, lighting the room up well enough to see clearly. It was clean and sparsely furnished, though the furnishings were rather nice. She looked down and noticed that her covers were...pink.

~How adorable, he likes pink.~

Then, she finally noticed what was clamped to her left hand: the owner of the pink blanket. His unnecessary shadows were gone, his bangs were out of his eyes, and his entire face was visible. As she surmised, the scar on his face did go all the way up to his hairline. It was interesting to her how it split his eyelid without destroying the rapidly moving eye beneath it. His long, thick eyelashes moved like mercury in his state of REM sleep. The experiment had never seen anything like it. She could watch every beautiful motion his eyes made in his sleep until the end of days, especially the left eye with its lovely scarred surface.

~He must have been born with silver hair. Every highlight and shade is too perfect to be signs of aging. He's so beautiful.~

The petite girl dared herself to touch the tips of his eyelashes. As she did so, his glowing green eyes flashed open staring straight at the her. They were so beautiful, she felt her secret places begin to unlock. He had the eyes of a hunter, an animal seeking prey, intimidating and hypnotic. Dual irises were a dead giveaway that her host was a reaper, but she didn't mind as she sensed no ill will in him so far. But those eyes held her frozen in her place with a flurry of emotions coursing through her mind. "I-I'm s-sorry," the lavender haired lady stammered. "I was enjoying watching you sleep. The movements of your eyes were so fascinating. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." The lady hung her head in a humbled gesture, but discretely peeked through a lavender curtain to see his beautiful eyes.

The newly revealed pale reaper only gazed upon the nervous lavender lady. After a few moments he lifted her head up with his black talons to look her in her mismatched eyes without bothering to hide his again. Equal looks of both curiosity and captivation passed between the glowing orbs of the mortician and the experiment; mismatched eyes of one, double irises of the other. The male was the first to break the stillness surrounding them. "No harm done, Lovely," he said in a calming, almost seductive voice. "Though, I've not heard of anyone being taken by how my eyes look when they're closed. You're quite a peculiar one, milady."

Unsure of how to respond to Undertaker's observation, January merely pointed out the obvious. "You're a reaper, aren't you?" She touched his forehead and closed her eyes. "But, not just any, you're the first of your kind; the prototype; ex nihilo." Opening her eyes, she removed her hand and continued, "the powers that be fear your immense power, therefore, you are the only reaper who was created. All others are recycled suicides." The female narrowed her eyes at her companion. "I am correct."

The mortician stared at the girl in astonishment. "You are correct," he agreed. A knowing grin formed on his face. "Aren't Empaths supposed to stay out of another's subconscious unless otherwise permitted, hm?"

The injured petite blushed in embarrassment. "It was necessary. You're so difficult to read. I was just trying to make sure you weren't going to harm me, but as I'm a very curious person, I dug a little deeper. I apologize for invading your privacy, Undertaker."

His grin widened. "Do I mean you any harm, milady?"

"No," she replied, bowing her head apologetically. She remained silent with shame for what she had done to him, for all the atrocities done unto her throughout her lifetime, and the abomination she was engineered to be. She rolled over onto her 'good' side in a fetal position, curling in on herself as much as the physical pain would allow, and silently let the shame pour out of her grass and sky eyes behind a lavender curtain. More than anything, she wanted an end to this mortal coil. She wanted to be one of Undertaker's beautiful guests; the kind that sleep and never wake up.

"Have you ever heard of eugenics?" the experimental beauty asked in whispered tears.

"I have a bit of knowledge in it," the mortician replied.

"I am an experiment. Empaths aren't all sweet, you know. I was fused together with a Yurei, an Ikiryo, to be specific. The eugenicists merged me with the oldest surviving Ikiryo, whom my people-Rarities-refer to as the Formless One. Like you, I am a prototype and the only one of my kind made by the eugenics program. The others were only spliced with the Will of other Ikiryo, but all were later destroyed. There was no war, so we weren't needed anymore." The female turned her head to face the silver haired man with bloodshot, pleading eyes. "Please, no more. I can't handle the burden anymore, Undertaker. Please...I'm so tired..."

The reaper's heart shattered at the experiment's tale. On top of that, he couldn't bear to see the lovely treasure before him weeping over something she couldn't control, especially something done to her against her will. A sudden overwhelming urge to protect the small woman became instinct to him. Mindful of her injuries, the silver reaper gently embraced the guilt ridden woman in his arms. He tucked her back under his fluffy pink covers and gently caressed her cheek. "I won't let anyone hurt you," he whispered, placing a ghost of a kiss on the corner of her mouth.


	4. Acquainted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *

Dirty lavender hair swished in front of her face as she slowly shuffled to the mortician on half healed bloodied legs. She tugged his robes as hard as her strength deprived body could. Clearly, it wasn't enough to garner his attention for it was the equivalent of a feather attempting to move a mountain. Instead, she resorted to having to speak to her fellow prototype, knowing that her request was going to sound more like a childish demand. "Undertaker?" she began shyly, flushing a furious red. "I'm hungry."

~I sound like such a pitiful child!~

The reaper turned mortician simply turned and laughed at the petite still wrapped in his robe. "It's nice of you to join the world of the living, milady. Ehehe. First, we need to get you cleaned up," he said, pointing out her bloodstained hair.

She scowled at the tall man in black. "Why didn't you do it earlier?" she snapped.

Undertaker's expression grew serious and softened at the same time. "I could have, yes, but I didn't want a lovely lady, such as yourself, to assume that I had taken advantage of her. Now, what kind of host would that make me? Hehehe." The eerie, trademark grin returned. "Let's have a look at those wounds and get them cleaned up. Afterwards, I'll leave you to your privacy if you wish."

The lavender lady felt humbled by her host's considerate behavior and kindness. She had not been treated that way by males since the death of her guardian. "Thank you, Undertaker, for your kindness," she said softly.

"Anything for a lovely lady," he replied with an ever widening grin.

xxxxxx

"It still hurts badly when I move," the female complained. "My leg is a little sore, but my side still feels terribly painful."

The mortician listened intently to the woman's complaints before rushing off to get the medical supplies he would need to patch her up. A few minutes later, he bounded back to the girl with the required materials. "We'll check your leg first." He carefully removed the bloodied bandage and cleaned the area. The girl giggled when some of the mortician's silver hair snuck over his shoulder and tickled her calf.

~Why does he have to get so close to my leg?~

An ebony nail gently poked around the stitched laceration to test her pain tolerance and the quality of his work. 

*It's already closed. How strange.*

Concern crossed the reaper's face as he turned his head to look at his patient. Part of his bangs drifted to one side revealing eyes that housed no ulterior motives. Rather, there was something deeper lurking in his expressive eyes than mere concern for the woman's comfort and well being.

~But what?~

She giggled again as more of his silver hair snuck over his shoulder to have a chance at her pale, bare calf. "Your hair is soft," she whispered.

"I see that you're ticklish, m'dear. Hehehe," Undertaker replied with a devilish grin. The lavender lady blushed. "You look so cute when you blush."

"Can the stitches come out now?"

Undertaker's smile dropped slightly. "These can," he stated dryly, tapping a nail on her leg. "You'll need to keep it bandaged for a few days. You heal quite fast, milady, even faster than most reapers. Very impressive."

"Eugenics," she shrugged, resigned to her lot in life.

The mortician chuckled and removed the stitches from January's leg and cleaned it once more for good measure. "I'm going to have to ask you to compromise your modesty so that I can have a good look at your side. I'm afraid I was rather hasty when closing your wound. As I said, I didn't want to appear as though I had taken advantage of you while you were unconscious. Hehehe."

The small woman complied by slipping her small arm out of the mortician's ridiculously long sleeve of the cloak she'd been wrapped up in. Fear and doubt gnawed at her thoughts; that despite the kindness he's shown her since she's been here, he could turn on her at any second given her vulnerable position. She glared at his reflection in the mirror without realizing he'd been speaking to her.

"January," the reaper said gently, not wanting to frighten the lady and lose her trust. "I need you to lift your arm so I can tend to your wound." He lightly poked the arm blocking access to her injury. "January!" Her name was spoken with more force. She snapped out of her suspicious thoughts and whipped her head around in the direction of the male's voice commanding her to move her arm. The experiment's harsh glare disappeared when she saw a unique brand of tenderness looking back at her. Long, spindly fingers reassuringly touched her face. "I've been trying to get your attention for the past few minutes, Lovely," the reaper said softly. He tilted his head, allowing his bangs to fall, leaving one breathtaking glowing green eye framed by soft silver lashes beneath a high, thin silver arch fully exposed. 

~He's too beautiful when he does that.~

"I need you to move your arm so I can fix your injury, Lovely," he repeated. 

"Oh, yes, sorry," the lavender haired woman muttered. She slowly moved her arm as instructed, wincing in pain when she found a halfway decent position to set it down. 

Right away the mortician got to work removing bloody wraps and haphazardly sewn stitches. He hummed an obscure song that only he knew as he cleaned the still open puncture wound while checking for signs of infection. Finding none, he smiled brightly to his companion for a few seconds, then resumed his work of medicating and properly stitching the open wound in her side. "Now that your wounds have been properly tended to, you can get cleaned up. Do you think you can do it on your own?"

"I don't know. It still hurts a lot when I raise my arms too high," the flustered petite replied.

Undertaker chuckled and covered her back up with his robes. "Then, let me know if you want my help. Hehehe." He was already halfway out of the attached bedroom when he heard the petite call out to him.

"Um, Undertaker...I might need you to help me out a little, after all. I trust you not to do anything that will hurt me."

Not expecting the girl to accept his offer, the silver haired man stopped in his tracks, the ever present grin gone from his face, and returned to the waiting female. "Are you quite sure about that?" The words were cold and sharp like a razor blade.

"You don't have to if it's too much trouble. I've been too burdensome already..." she trailed off. Her mismatched eyes shone with unshed tears of pain and longing...

~For...him? For him?...Oh Goddess! For Undertaker?~

The mortician's expression softened. "If my Lovely wishes, then that is what I shall do." A genuine smile graced his lips instead of the Cheshire grins she'd grown used to and she swore she could feel a tumbler in the lock of her secret place turn when their eyes met.

xxxxxx

The prototype shrugged off the blackness shrouding her petite frame, allowing soft lavender locks stained with the blood of the guilty to hang loosely about her back. Deft, clawed fingers pulled her hair into a messy bun so as not to get into the way of her bathing. The hair is always best saved for last for those with long locks. While waiting for the tub to fill, the mortician admired his charge's tattoo. A sense of familiarity overtook him and quickly vanished as he beheld the back piece. He admired how the blue gray eyeball served as a backdrop to an upside down clock face with inward pointing hands and irrelevant numerals randomly dancing backward around the iris. The most peculiar part of the piece was the ice skeletons of the _Danse Macabre_ lining the small of the experiment's back. It was separate, yet one with the irrelevantly timed piece covering the remainder of her back.

*The Dance of Death. I see she understands.*

He dared run a single nail down the entire length of her back, but thought better of it. He regretted not having his glasses at the moment as his blurry vision didn't allow him to see the fine lines and details that went into the prototype's work. Nevertheless, it drew him in. She drew him in, and he wondered if she was feeling the same way about him.

"Undertaker, is something on your mind?" A female voice, soft and airy, twisted its way inside his mind. Or was he imagining it? He'd been so lost in his reverie regarding the divine creature and her tattoo that he had forgotten about helping the poor, injured thing with a simple daily task. A soft hand caressed his face, a small fingertip delicately traced the outline of his mouth from one slight upturn to the other. Before anything progressed any further, his clawed hand roughly snatched hers away from his face. Her high pitched squeak brought him back to the present.

"I'm sorry, Lovely," the silver reaper said sweetly. He kissed the hand he so abruptly grabbed and let it go, allowing its owner to do with it as she pleased. "What were you saying?"

The first month turned her back to Undertaker to resume the washing she was able to do on her own. "I asked what was on your mind. Has my tattoo put you out of sorts?" She peeked over her shoulder trying to read the look in his eyes, but his bangs obscured them once again. "You can wash it now. Anyway, it was given to me some time after I was forced into the eugenics program. All of us got a unique identifier. Mine is the frozen _Danse Macabre_." She paused for a moment as if collecting a forgotten memory. "They mentioned a specific meaning behind it and our code names, but I forgot what it was exactly. My memory is spotty. The experiments..." Softness trailed off into silence.

The mortician's hands ghosted along the outline of the back piece. "It's beautiful work. It's unfortunate that it was given to you in the most cruel circumstances."

The petite shivered beneath his soft touch and felt her heart beat faster than ever. She wanted more, but didn't know how to ask for it, or if he'd give it to her. "I'm ready for my hair, Undertaker. That is, if you don't mind putting up with it."

The reaper snickered. "I assure you, my dear lady, I can put up with it, as you say."

As fresh water refilled the tub, the mortician shed his outer and inner robes, leaving him in skin tight black leather pants, black leather boots buckled all the way up to his thighs, and a long sleeve white button down shirt. His silver mane was pulled up into a high ponytail and secured by an elegant black ribbon, exposing all of his ear piercings. If he were out and about right now women (and men) would be throwing themselves at him. He bitterly laughed at the memories of the women and men that he conquered in more ways than one. Still, he felt empty and hollow inside. Giggling, he returned to the lavender beauty awaiting him.

Footsteps sounding slightly heavier than usual put January's defenses up as she listened to them approach the bathroom. There was no familiar swishing of fabric that was her host's robes. She waited nervously of what was to come, but a wave of relief washed over her when familiar giggles floated through the air from the doorway. She closed her eyes and breathed, thanking the Goddess it hadn't been someone that had found their way in to harm her. She allowed herself to relax with some difficulty, considering the fact that she kept her knees drawn up to preserve her modesty as much as she could. After taking a few nerve calming deep breaths, she opened her eyes to an entirely different Undertaker busying himself with some fragrant bottles at the vanity table. When he stood up he looked a lot taller than he did compared to when he wore the mortician's robes. The experiment felt like prey trapped in his predator's gaze by a mere glance at the other in the mirror. 

~He is so incredibly beautiful. Every scar, everything....I didn't know _that_ was hiding underneath all those loose clothes. He's so tall! Oh my Goddess...he's beautiful...True Death.~

The tattooed lady felt a shiver race up and down her spine and back again when the man of legendary beauty turned to face her. His glowing green hunter's eyes locked onto their blue and green targets, holding their owner in place. The coldest winter month experienced a sudden warm front as a deep red flush spread to the tips of her ears. The want and hunger she saw fueled by some deeper need in his eyes made hers glow just as bright as his, if not more so. She studied every move he made and committed it to memory to the best of her ability. Everything from the slight sway of his narrow hips to the fluid motion of his hair to the predatory facial expressions. A soft thud announced the arrival of a basket of shampoo and other such goodies as well as its carrier. A wooden stick engraved with Japanese characters was slowly pulled out of her bun by a certain reaper. With a smug smirk on his face, he leaned in closer, allowing his nails to graze the nape of the lavender haired woman's neck on its way up to the second wooden stick securing the messy bun. "See something you like?" he asked casually as he pulled out the other wooden stick, allowing bloody lavender to unfurl over pale skin.

"Oh Goddess!" the naked prototype gasped. Blue and green glowed vividly from wide, staring eyes. She felt another tumbler turn in the lock of her secret place as she relished the lingering sensation of his nails against her skin. 

"I'll take that as a yes," the silver predator chuckled. He was once again within inches of her face, scrutinizing phosphorescent green eyes combing over every detail. "My, my, such a lovely creature you are. Perfect skin. You'd be a lovely corpse, but I much prefer you the way you are...Alive, that is. Hehehe."

"I've never worn cosmetics," the petite girl admitted. "I don't see the use in them or most other female trappings. I wasn't engineered to be a proper lady." Scorn filled her voice and poured onto the words like a rich, bitter syrup. "Just to pass as a commoner while in the mortal realm, and easily go undetected in case something...Oh my Goddess, Undertaker, your nails feel so damn good...in case something goes wrong." She sighed contentedly and leaned back further against the rim of the tub. "Mmm...Undertaker, that feels so nice...You have such wonderful nails..."Her glowing blue and green eyes fluttered closed as she savored every moment of the mortician's meticulous, yet gentle cleansing of her hair.

A cool, taloned hand stroked the experiment's cheek. "Naturally exotic in your simplicity, Lovely." A chain reaction of little shivers and a giddy smile brought on by the feeling of the backs of his nails bidding their farewell on her skin served to fuel his hunger for her.

"I'm flattered, but-"

Skeletal fingers twisted their way into lavender tendrils, pulling down hard, eliciting a gasp from the female. "I wonder, though, if those eyes of yours are also engineered to glow as bright as they do." His piercing electric green eyes studied her mismatched glowing orbs with intense scrutiny. "Perhaps, you were born with a light this enchanting, yes?" The words whispered darkly against trembling lips. The mortician carefully released her hair from his grip, purposefully allowing it to slowly drift through his fingers.

They sat in awkward silence for a while. The female had no idea how to respond. On one hand, she wanted him to pull her hair again, and satisfy that certain obsession she has. On the other hand, she wanted to kill him. He hit a nerve with his words.

~My eyes aren't fake. I'm a Rarity.~

The silence was too deafening for the silver reaper, and he figured out why when he saw the lady shaking like a leaf with her head bowed. Oh, how he hated seeing lovely ladies cry. Not caring if he got wet, he drew January against him in a warm, comforting embrace. "Did I upset you, Lovely?" he whispered. 

"The thing you said about my eyes...after all that flattery, then to assume that my eyes glow because it's eugenics related. All Empaths have glowing eyes. What is wrong with you?" A confused, hurt glow emanated from the lavender haired girl's eyes.

"I had not meant any insult to you. I meant only to compliment the beauty of your eyes, whether or not it is genetically engineered or genetically gifted at birth." The mortician pulled her closer. "If my Lovely will forgive me, I'd like to finish your hair." He tilted his head to the side exposing sincerity in the expressive green eyes behind the silver veil. "No more crying. It's unbecoming of a beautiful lady such as yourself." 

A small smile played across the experiment's lips. "Ok, Undertaker." She blushed madly when he hugged her tighter and kissed the top of her head. "I just remembered something about my name and tattoo!"

"Oh, that it's a code name," Undertaker stated nonchalantly. "And there we go...last one. No more tangles!"

The experiment spun around in the tub, splashing water in various directions. "How do you know that, reaper?" she demanded in icy suspicion.

"Deductive reasoning. Why would a product of eugenics created to be the ultimate weapon-the prototype, in your case-go about realms using her real name? Also, the frozen _Danse Macabre_ gave away a winter month, so I had a one out of three chance of guessing correctly. Your clock, though somewhat relevant to the piece on your lower back is far newer. It is a testament to you and quite a clever way to conceal your mark. It really is beautiful." The mortician rubbed conditioning oil into his guest's hair. "So, what is your _real_ name?"

The scent of mimosa blossoms flooded her senses.

~My Goddess, where did he find that oil?~

"First, tell me yours...please...," the girl demanded in a haze of sweetness.

A seemingly long silence settled between the two prototypes. "Ok, if the lady insists," the man of unnecessary shadows grumbled. "Adrian Crevan."

Blue and green eyes rolled back as far as they could to meet his acid green glare. "It's lovely and befitting of someone as beautiful as you. In my opinion, you look like an Adrian. I can't imagine you with any other name."

"That's really quite flattering, but I'd appreciate it if you kept it between us."

"I promise I will. Now, I said I'd tell you mine." The girl took a deep breath. "It's Stella. I hate it, but I suppose it's better than January. Right?" She giggled at the irony of her own statement.

"You're done!" the mortician exclaimed, wrapping her in a black velvet robe. "Let's get you fed before you end up as one of my guests. Ehehehe!"

Somehow, he will always know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got my OC/January's "real" name from a song I was listening to at the time.
> 
> "Stella Was a Diver and She's Always Down" by Interpol
> 
> Fuck it, I'm putting my headphones back on. Christian Death is on, and it's the good stuff when Rozz Williams was with the band.


	5. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
> 
> Grell is referred to as he/she in this context because my OC isn't aware of her gender preference or even who she is in the nightmare she's having. It is not meant to be disrespectful to the Grell or to transgender folks in general. Because, dammit, I love Grell, too.  
> This chapter contains rape, mention of necrophilia, suicide via mind control, and graphic violence. You have been warned.

The unnecessary shadows were creeping back onto the mortician's pale face by the minute as dusk gave way to the night. The beauty that had hypnotized her during the daylight was swallowed by secret creatures beneath foreboding darkness. The eyes of a golden jackal stared at the tattooed lady from within his unnecessary shadows.

"Why are your shadows so unnecessary?" she finally asked.

The possessor of the golden jackal eyes cocked his head, shifting the shadows in the dim light. "Whatever do you mean, Lovely?"

"When the light fades...it just reminds me of something I keep forgetting. I know it isn't you, but..." she trailed off into her own dark thoughts.

The mortician removed his hat and brushed back his bangs. "Is that better?" he asked as he took the woman's small hands in his. "It's been a long day for both of us. Hehe. You should get some sleep."

The female nodded in agreement and allowed her host to escort her to the bedroom. She was given one of his button down shirts to sleep in and cautioned not to disrupt the stitches on her side. Then, darkness followed by silence after the reaper bid her goodnight and left her alone to drift into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

xxxxxx

_"This was not part of the arrangement, Mr. Glass," a tall bespectacled man clad in a business suit stated coldly. Metal on metal clicked as pruning shears pushed steel framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Upper management will be made aware of this at once!"_

_The bright blue eyed male rolled his eyes. "Have it your way, Spears."_

_Spears' eye twitched in irritation as he tried to remain stoic. Still, his glance down at the experiment held no compassion. "I shall and good day!" With that, the pruner wielding man stormed off muttering under his breath._

_The blue eyed man Spears was conversing with chuckled and shook his head. "Doesn't that stiff know anything?" The winter month felt a rough hand creep up her leg and part her thighs. One finger, then two...in, out...in, out. "Souls are souls. Once there are enough of you, those uptight collectors should be grateful that Project 0 exists for their benefit as well." Winter remained frozen against the unwanted attention. "Frigid bitch, just like your name suggests," the perverted eugenicist growled as he replaced his fingers with a certain other appendage. His words cut into her psyche like the shards of his namesake. Still, the ice in her body refused to thaw even with the repeated heat tearing her up inside. When she still refused to yield to him, his fist got itself acquainted with her face, and that's when his neck got acquainted with her hand. The blue eyed male probably should have drugged her first as he realized he wasn't going to get his gratification. "Oh, shit."_

_Eyes as black as pitch concentrated on the Glass object that needed to be destroyed. He was thrown into a corner as the lavender petite sat up. Expressionless features housed a fearsome weapon that was about to backfire on him._

_~That was the last time, Glass. I remember now...You tried to fuck your sister once, didn't you?~_

_"N-no!" the perverted eugenicist denied. "You keep out of my head! You, you little bitch! I'll have you destroyed too!"_

_~But she told on you~_

_"Shut up, I say!"_

_~and your father beat you with a belt until your disgusting ass bled. To this day, the skin is still puckered with scars from the beating.~_

_"Stop this, please," the male pleaded with tears threatening to spill from the memory._

_~Yet you still couldn't stop your atrocities, ARNOLD GLASS! You just had to go and vivisect the Rarities, didn't you?~ The soft, airy voice echoed sarcastically within the blond man's subconscious._

_~And what you couldn't do with a living woman~_

_The experiment's eyes were completely black, from the whites to the pupils. She was still seated and expressionless on the examination table. From deeper in the eugenicist's filthy subconscious her soft, airy voice became much darker._

_~you did with the dying, vivisected Rarities just to get your own amusement from watching their organs twitch and move with each thrust. Did it satisfy you to watch blue and green fade to gray when you fucked them to death?~_

_A stranger named "remorse" introduced itself to the violator of all that are Rarities. Wails and lamentations burst forth from his putrid mouth. Escape from the weapon he helped create became inevitable as it was far too late to destroy it. Regret poured down his cheeks as his hands unconsciously removed his lab coat and shirt._

_~Remember May. Remember how you forced me to watch my love, Mae, be destroyed in the month of her code name. Remember Mae. Remember her, and remember me as you destroy yourself like she was destroyed. At least you will be spared the humiliation she suffered at the hands of shit like you and your sick little friends. Remember Mae. Remember May.~_

_"I didn't destroy her!" the blue eyed freak argued as he dragged a scalpel over his flesh. "'Doc' did."_

_~Voyeurs are just as cruel. Remember Mae. Remember me. Remember us in May.~_

_"F-fuck y-you!" he shrieked as he collapsed to the ground in a pile of his own guts._

_~Take a moment to examine how your own filthy insides work, and remember who it was you tore apart that day. I will never forgive you for making me watch my love be stolen from me. She was mine and you swine took her. Be happy that your end isn't as humiliating.~_

_The Empath tried to protest, but his feeble attempts were in vain as his blue eyes faded to gray. The bitterly self satisfied voice left his subconscious mere moments before his passing into the Goddess' Divine Judgement. He would be forever rejected by Her for the wanton slaughter of Rarities, and no amount of pleading at Divine Judgement would change Her mind._

_The lavender haired woman's eyes returned to grass and sky. A few seconds passed by when she came to her senses. She felt blood and pain in between her legs and swelling around her left eye. Luckily she was still clothed in her long black dress. She frantically removed the tubes and IVs from her arms and rolled down her sleeves. As she was in the process of buttoning them she spotted an eviscerated corpse on the floor. She clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream as her eyes widened in terror. When she remembered where she was, instinct kicked in as this was a prime opportunity to escape. She ran down twisting corridors, through a rocky catacomb, and into a brightly lit room full of books until she saw a bright light ahead of her that was closing fast. She took a chance and dove into it, barely missing the edge of a massive blade, and hit the ground running without looking back. Once she found a private place, she vented all her terror in a blood curdling scream. In the back of her mind she wondered why neither presence could sense the other. She knew something was there because she was here, but what? Then, she stopped caring because she was finally free._

xxxxxx

Lavender tendrils stuck to a terrified, convulsing woman sitting on the floor with knees drawn to her chest. She always hated these nightmares. Fast approaching footsteps arrived at her door and slowed once they entered the room. Her code name echoed eerily in her ears; deep, muffled, possibly in another reality. Something warm and solid stopped her convulsing, and oddly enough began to relax-no, comfort-her. Something soft pressed against her forehead. The sound of a familiar voice slowly began to bring the experiment back to the current reality.

"...nightmare. I won't let anything hurt you..."

~I know that voice.~

"Am...am I back in the lab?" the girl asked from between realities.

"No...shop..." the voice continued from far away.

"Who are you?"

"...remember?...Undertaker..." The voice sounded concerned and a bit hurt. Nevertheless, the mortician giggled a little bit at how surreal this little scene was. Wasn't it he who usually lost his grip on reality, not the other way around? At least that's what people were led to believe. If he thought too much about it, he truly would lose his grip on what little amount of sanity he had left.

*What did they do to her?*

~That name, that voice...shop~

"Undertaker!" Bright blue and green illuminated her companion's features as she beheld him in her half mad gaze. "In your shop? No labs?" The panic stricken woman demanded. She looked for something of his to grab onto, but with no luck, she climbed on top of him instead and settled for his face. "I'm still free? You won't make me go back? I won't be destroyed?" Anxious tears flowed freely down pale cheeks.

"Hehe. Of course not, Lovely," he replied in a soothing voice. "I told you I'd protect you."

The tattooed woman's eyes glowed brighter as she took in the male's appearance. His long silver hair was braided loosely down his back and his bangs were casually swept to the side, revealing his alluring green eyes.

~The hat is shadows and dim lights unnecessary.~

She realized that a bare, scarred chest wasn't exactly the same as robes when it came down to grabbing on to something out of desperation. She found herself turning a little pink from staring a bit too long.

~He's pierced there too?~

She squeaked when she felt the reaper pull her body against his and wrap his long arms around her tiny waist. "Do you promise?" Her blue and green gaze bore straight into the golden green windows to his soul searching for _it_. The answers to her questions, the truth, and to satisfy _her_ hunger; a hunger not unlike his own. A pair of cold hands held fast to the reaper's face, forcing him not to avert his eyes from his inquisitor. "Do you promise not to let them destroy me?" Her words, though softer spoken, were more insistent.

"I can't promise you that," the male responded solemnly. He reinforced his hold on the lavender lady when she started to wrench herself free from his arms. He took her chin in one hand and forced her to look at him. "You are _not_ an object, Stella."

~He used my real name.~

"I promise to protect you, and not let them-whomever they may be- _kill_ you," he stated firmly.

The perplexed cold month relaxed in the reaper's hold. "I-I'm not an object to you?" she asked skeptically. 

"Not at all. To me, you're a lady; lovely and unusual, but a lady just the same," he said softly. "Now, why would anyone treat such a lovely lady like an object?"

"That's just it," the petite replied sadly. "I was engineered to be a weapon, and weapons are objects."

"Oh, Love-"

The mortician was cut off by a passionately soft kiss from the reality confused female. "The shadows weren't unnecessary this time," she said softly.

The two prototypes silently cast curious, illuminated gazes upon each other until it developed into a certain kind of hunger. The reaper was the first to break the stillness by returning the female's kiss. "Your eyes light up when I kiss you," Undertaker whispered seductively, planting soft kisses and teasing nips along the Rarity's neck. "Such lovely eyes." His lips captured hers again in a more heated kiss. Winter thawed as she and the mortician tasted each other. They let their tongues dance rather than fight for dominance. He noticeably shuddered as she grazed her nails over the rings in his nipples, which only made him hold her tighter out of sheer reflex. Again, the reaper attacked her neck with alternating bites and kisses, and the Rarity, in turn, let her tongue dance over each piercing in his ears, making sure to tug on the loops in his earlobes with her teeth, eliciting a pleasured growl. "If you keep this up, I don't know how much longer I'll be able to control myself."

The tattooed woman pulled back. "Such a gentleman. You know, your eyes glow when you look at me." She cocked her head to the side. "It's with such hunger, but there's something far deeper than that driving it, though. Far deeper than a carnal desire." The female yawned and curled up in the mortician's lap. "Far deeper...far, far deeper... far...far...deeper..."

*You have no idea how right you are, Lovely.*

The silver haired man smiled down at the petite awkwardly curled in his lap. "To bed it is, then. Hehe." He scooped her up off the floor and tucked her in, but instead of going back to sleep in his coffin, he decided to stay with the petite woman...in case she had another nightmare.

xxxxxx

_"Mae? Mae? Mae!"_

_"Stella, run!" the green haired petite woman yelled. "Go before he comes for you, too!"_

_"I won't leave you, Mae! I can still get you out!"_

_"It's too late. They're here. Go! Now! Hurry!" the green female pleaded. "You're the strongest, you can survive. Go! NOW!"_

_The lavender petite nodded and was about to comply with her lover's request when she was caught by two men and a woman or was it a man? Well, it was red, had a chainsaw, and was very pissed off about being dragged into this entire situation._

_"Mr. Glass, it seems May's little girlfriend has come to watch her be destroyed."_

_"Indeed she has, 'Doc', so let's give the little bitch a show," Mr. Glass replied. "Do your worst while I tend to our little frosty one here and make sure she doesn't get away." The pervert's arm slid around the experiment's waist. "Are you ready for the show, January?"_

_"You Empaths are truly disgusting," chainsaw wielder grumbled. "I'm not even getting paid overtime for this and I don't even...What the fuck are you doing to that girl!"_

_"Doc", the Empath in charge of May, began a Y-incision on said subject without her being dead or anesthetized. Screams of terror and anguish flooded the laboratory that was currently occupied by the group. The lavender haired woman watched in shrieking horror as her green haired lover was vivisected and humiliated in front of her. The green haired petite was the only one she'd been close to before and during the eugenics program. Now, she was forced to bear witness to spring's destruction, which meant her days were numbered._

_"MAE!"_

_"What are you doing to that girl? You were just supposed to destroy-"_

_"You're just here for collections, lady-boy," the blond Empath hissed. "Shut the fuck up and do your job and we'll do ours."_

_"That is no way to talk to a lady!"_

_"Can it, Sutcliff!" the other Empath shouted._

_The lavender experiment was too petrified to fight her captor after witnessing the blue and green glow of her lover's eyes fade to gray once her final moments elapsed._

_~I didn't even get to tell her I loved her. She didn't get to tell me she loved me. At least she doesn't know these sick fucks are humiliating her corpse like this.~_

_"Are you quite through?" Sutcliff, the one with the chainsaw, demanded impatiently. "I have reapings I need to get to. This, however, will not go unreported." The last part muttered under his or her breath._

_"Keep your pants on, Red," "Doc" said as he backed away from the lifeless disemboweled form of spring._

_"Might I suggest the same to you, Empath," the redhead snapped._

_The sound of a chainsaw...muttering about being roped into something this depraved against their will...surprised gasp..."These records have been tampered!" the redhead shrieked. Broken film reels flew out of the disemboweled test subject's lifeless body...fading..._

xxxxxx

_...To a scene of utter devastation of a realm between two unearthly realms. One of the unknowns as humans rarely encounter these creatures. In fact, other beings rarely interact with them at all. Lifeless gray stared out from the once blue eyes of males and green eyes of females. Bodies laid in bloodied heaps, cut down by Death Scythes from the onslaught of reapers._

_"Remind me again why we're doing this?"_

_"Sir?"_

_"Nothing, Spears. I'm just tired of this; tired of this whole lifestyle. I've been around for a long time. I think I'm just about done with the whole reaping business."_

_"But, sir, you're a legend! And, you're my role model." The last part was said rather bashfully._

_The elder inwardly rolled his eyes, despising the hero worship. "I appreciate the notion, Spears, but I believe I will retire. I don't even see the point to destroying this realm. I'll no longer be party to it in any way. It's pointless! I refuse to kill one person here. And whatever damn scheme the Higher Ups have in mind is beyond my knowledge. As I said, William, I'm done."_

_"But, sir-"_

_"Look around you. We're out here following orders, destroying an entire realm and their people. Why? For what purpose? Can you answer that, Mr. Spears?"_

_A tall reaper clad in black leather with circular wire framed glasses and a long dark braid appeared, holding a tiny girl with mismatched eyes and lavender hair. "Oi, Crevan, there's quite a number o' these," he said, referring to the child. A small smile of amusement tugged at the corners of the little girl's mouth as he spoke in his thick British accent. "I know of th' orders from the Bosses, but I wasn't 'spectin' t' find such yung'ns."_

_"Let them live. I'm tired of the suffering today. I'm tired of it in general."_

_"Sir, the orders-"_

_"Spears!" The young man's name came out as a threatening growl. "Look at her, she is only an innocent child. Enough have died today! Orders from the Higher Ups or not, I'm done."_

_A tiny girl with wavy green hair and mismatched green and blue eyes peeked out from behind the leather clad reaper's legs._

_"Well, Jones, it seems that someone thinks you're her daddy." A round of chuckling bounced back and forth between the elder reapers._

_"You'd think so, but th' lil' dear wouldna leave lil' lovely's side. I best be off lookin' for their parents, eh, Crevan?"_

_"The efforts may be futile, my friend, but give it a try." Crevan pulled his friend closer. "If you discover their parents are dead or missing, protect those girls to the best of your ability. You got that, Jones?" he whispered lowly. Jones nodded as though the other were still giving orders. "Good. They don't deserve an unnecessary end."_

_A tiny hand tugged on his ponytail, distracting him from his hushed conversation with his friend and subordinate. "You're pretty and your hair is soft. It looks like moonbeams." The little girl looked down at her green haired friend. "Right Mae-Mae? He's the pretty one." Her little friend vigorously nodded and hid behind the dark haired reaper's leg._

_"Both of you little ladies are pretty too," the pony tailed reaper replied._

_"Ye know," the braided reaper resumed. "I just don't get it. We ain't murderers, but here we are a'murderin'. Why? 'Cause they keep t'emselves, their realm borders th' angels an' it scares us? 'Cause they 'ave a dif'rent religion? Makes us no better than th' humans we reap."_

_"You're right, Jones. It's like killing your neighbor on the second floor, whom you don't know, because you hate your neighbor on the third floor."_

_"You are wise, Crevan."_

_"Jones, before you leave, I was just telling my student here that I'm retiring. So, consider this my goodbye to you."_

_"This is unofficial, I take it?"_

_"You could say that."_

_"Some will see you as a deserter, Crevan," Jones warned._

_A pair of half frame glasses were thrust into William T. Spears' hand. "Here, do what you want with these, William. As much as it pains me to say it, you've been one of my best students. If you can keep your wits about you, you'll go on to do great things."_

_"Yes, sir. I'll do my best."_

_"Jones, I don't care. Let them see me how they wish. I've had enough of this lifestyle. I was going to retire anyway, but then this..." he swept his arm out, gesturing to the destroyed realm. "Call everyone back, we're done for the day, and I'm done, period."_

_*The devastation for the sake of what? We dare call ourselves gods...*_

xxxxxx

~To dream from a mind not mine...~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rarities code names are used by those who aren't close with them.  
> Also, Mae's code name is May. So, it's not a typo.


	6. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
> 
> It's fluffy time and also a bit of time in the emo corner. Get out your hankies.

Light, presumably the morning sun, pierced the veil of flesh covering the weapon's eyes. Lazily, and with a frustrated sigh she awakened, finding herself wrapped securely in the silver mortician's pale, battle scarred arms. Immediately, her blue and green eyes took on a bright, hungry glow as she beheld his serene beauty while he slept beside her. Sometime during the night, the loose braid he wore came undone, allowing silver silk to splay loosely about him in all directions. The lavender experiment stealthily moved the tip of her pinky over his eyelashes.

~So unnaturally long and soft like velvet.~

This time, he didn't open his eyes, so she got a bit bolder. Biting her lip in concentration, the experiment _very_ delicately traced the scar over her companion's left eyelid with the tip of her index finger, earning something between a sigh and a purr from the grinning madman.

"Mornin', Lovely," his voice cracked and husky from sleep greeted.

"Were you awake the whole time?" Embarrassment flooded her skin with an unheard of shade of read.

"Mm hmm," he hummed, pulling her closer and nuzzling into her hair, getting lost in its softness. "I thought you were too precious, so I didn't bother stopping you this time. Hehehe."

The petite woman settled into the mortician's embrace. "You're a madman, you know."

"So I've been told," he replied with his trademark boisterous laugh.

The pale haired prototypes laid there snuggled up in each other's arms for most of the morning with contented smiles on their faces. The first month wrapped her arms around the mortician and intertwined her right leg through both of his, bringing them closer together. He shivered at the sensation of her leg languidly rubbing between his pajama clad thighs as she shifted positions. He instinctively growled from deep in the back of his throat, and his hold on her small frame tightened in a possessive manner causing her to squeak. The reaper snapped back to reality and loosened his grip on the woman beside him, however, the look of possessive hunger was still evident in his eyes. "I'm quite sorry, Lovely," he said apologetically while attempting to soften his gaze. Black talons stroked lavender locks. "It seems I almost lost control. I will admit that I have taken a liking to you." A soft smile greeted the lady instead of the usual creepy grin.

"It's no worse than the wormwood extract you lace your cookies with," she replied. "I actually did lose control, but I liked it. Kissing you, that is. You know, you have a lovely smile, Adrian; the little upturned corners of your mouth, the points on your teeth...ok, now I just sound stupid." She hid her face in Undertaker's chest so he wouldn't see how deeply she was blushing. "Do you really like me even after all the trouble I've caused you, and even after how mean I was to you?"

With a little bit of effort, he made Stella finally look him in the eyes.

~My Goddess, they are stunning!~

"Is such a question really necessary?" To prove his point, the mortician placed a soft kiss on the Rarity's lips and drew her back into his embrace.

xxxxxx

The wound in the petite's right side healed after almost two months, which was extremely slow for her, but there was also the severity of the injury to take into account and the frequent nightmares that plagued her almost every night. The unconscious, violent thrashing that accompanied each passing nightmare reopened the stitches, leaving behind a crimson reminder of the painful past that still dwelled within her subconscious. Not once did the silver haired man lose patience with her every time he had to repair the stitches for he understood all too well the nature of nightmares and the havoc they wreak on an unstable mind. Anything she needed, he'd provide; anything she wanted, he'd give. To him, she was his, but he wouldn't tell her that, unless she wanted him to. He couldn't delude himself into thinking she felt the same hunger for him as he did for her, but he often did find himself wondering if they did share mutual feelings.

xxxxxx

A shadow passed behind the lady at the vanity, no longer catching her by surprise. By now she'd grown used to the mortician's way of moving about his home. She paid his reflection no mind as she was hyper-focused on brushing a single section of her lavender hair over and over again. Memories of spring's climax coming to a brutal end replayed in her memory and this compulsory action kept the raging blizzard of emotions at bay.

Her hairbrush was gently removed by a clawed hand, then a shimmering curtain of silver fell in her periphery, quickly garnering her attention. "May I?" A voice equally as soft as the silver hair surrounding her vision asked. She nodded, granting the legend silent permission to be close to her in the state of mind she was in. She squeaked slightly as she was lifted out of the chair and placed squarely on Undertaker's lap. A long, bony finger was over her lips before she was able to open her mouth to protest. "Shhh..." the silver haired man whispered in her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you. Remember?" He took a section of her hair and began separating smaller sections of it to detangle with his nails. "How does your hair get tangled so easily, my dear?"

"I'm not sure, but don't stop doing what you're doing." Nails slid down the back of her neck as a particularly large section of lavender was unlocked. The experiment clawed the reaper's thighs, pushing herself up against him. "My Goddess! Your nails feel...so...good. I've...not since Mae...Don't stop, Adrian...Mmmmm..." Her eyes brightened and fluttered shut as he happily obliged, using both hands from the top of her head to her shoulders.

"It seems my Lovely has quite the fondness for these talons," the mortician snickered, wiggling his fingers in his companion's face.

"I don't see why I shouldn't. The way you touch me with them feels so good. It's like I've been touched by the Goddess Herself."

"Does it now? Hehehe." This time, he worked his talons on the sides of her neck, splaying his fingers out to tease the front. The lavender haired woman squirmed, pressing her hands into the reaper's thighs with greater pressure as she ground her backside against him. He secured her around the waist with one arm and with the other, used his long nails to make the girl's flesh crawl from her jaw, down her throat, across her clavicle, and back up again. 

Glowing mismatched eyes blazed with furious hunger at the man wielding the teasing talons. Her hand darted out, grabbed the back of his head by a wad of silver, and pulled him into a wanton, passionate kiss. His clawed hand still teased her throat, making her hungrier for the beautiful legend. "Oh Goddess...I-I want you, Adrian," the tattooed experiment quietly murmured into the kiss.

He broke the kiss and looked at her with a curious grin. "What was that, Lovely?"

"N-nothing. You're mind is playing tricks on you," the flustered petite answered.

The reaper coiled his arms tightly around his blushing companion. "I heard you, and the feeling is mutual," he whispered seductively with a nip to her ear causing her to turn redder than blood. "You're so cute when you blush."

"Say, why do you call me 'Lovely' all the time?"

"I call you my Lovely because you _are_ lovely," the silver reaper replied, caressing her cheek. "No, you're actually far more than lovely, but to say you're beautiful is cliche' and to say you're gorgeous lacks elegance. Pretty isn't good enough for you and cute is too infantile. So, the closest description that suits you is lovely." The reaper embraced her and nuzzled the crook of her neck. On impulse, he let slip an "I love you" that he hoped was muffled by the kiss he placed there.

*Why did I just say that?*

~Did he say what I think he said? No...weapons are unlovable. But _I_ love him. I shouldn't, but I do. I was a Rarity before the eugenics program...maybe...oh Goddess, what should I do?~

"I love you, too," the weapon whispered inaudibly.

"What?"

*Shit! She heard me!*

~I sense it from you too, Adrian.~

"Nothing. Weren't you going to do my hair?"

"Oh, yes, that's right. Hehehe." The reaper resumed the task of brushing lavender locks efficiently and gently.

"May I have a braid today?" the petite requested.

"Certainly, my lovely lady. You may have anything you wish," the silver reaper replied as he wove an elaborate French braid in lavender locks.

~In that case, can I have you?~

He placed a gentle kiss on the back of the petite's neck when he completed the task. "How do you like it?"

"It's beautiful! Where did you learn to do that?" the braided Rarity exclaimed.

"I am but a humble mortician, milady. It is my job to make my guests beautiful. Hehehe."

"You ass!" The experiment playfully shoved him backwards causing him to lose balance. He instinctively grabbed hold of her as they tumbled to the floor in an awkward heap; tattoos over scars, curiously staring into each other's glowing eyes. Neither moved, nor did they want to. "You're so beautiful," the female spoke as she moved silver bangs further away from the legend's eyes. "Especially when you sleep. I love the way your eyelashes move when you enter REM sleep. They are mercury on the edge of flesh. The scar on your eyelid is a snapping fault line unleashing its wrath on the surrounding skin. But when you wake up, I can't help but want to live in your eyes; your beautiful mesmerizing eyes."

The mortician looked bewildered at first, then smiled in amusement at the woman's unique observation. "That's interesting, my dear. Do you make a habit of watching people sleep?" he inquired, subtly increasing his hold on the woman above him.

She blushed and smiled sheepishly. "I used to watch Mae."

"Mae?"

She laid her lavender head on the reaper's chest as she recalled her lost burst of spring. "She was close to me since early childhood...since before the...experiments. Both of us were Rarities. Neither of us really knew our parents, but we heard they were killed the day our realm was destroyed. A man-a reaper-with a long dark braid and circular glasses in black leather found us in the temple ruins and took us in and protected us. His name was Marcus Jones, and he was the only father that Mae and I ever knew. We laughed at his thick British accent, but he never got angry with us for teasing him. In fact, he never mistreated us or yelled at us. He raised us as if we were his own until the day we were...stolen from him." Hot tears sprang forth from the Rarity's eyes.

"You don't have to say anything more. I do hate to see you suffer so." The mortician rose to a sitting position while holding his companion close to him.

"No, it's fine." She continued her haunting recollection. "Marcus was always so protective over Mae and I, but on that day, we could tell that he felt like he failed us because he was overtaken by a group of Empaths and reapers in his own home without the ability to save us. I remember hiding with Mae under some discarded leather garments in the back of Marcus' closet when the fighting took place, then there was a long bout of silence, and then we were discovered and dragged out of our sanctuary by several Empaths. Several reapers had Marcus subdued, and he was looking at us with a mix of fear and fury. We knew he wasn't angry with us, however, the fear in his eyes was what was reserved for us. It's almost as if he knew something else was going on, but was keeping it a secret. Before we were allowed to leave one of the Empaths ordered a tall reaper with pruning shears to kill Marcus with his own weapon while forcing Mae and I to watch. That son of a bitch did it; he drove Marcus' Death Scythe right through his throat without mercy, without remorse, and with cold, calculated precision while we were forced to watch. Then, he impaled Marcus' chest with those awful pruners and watched his Cinematic Records, calling him a traitor under his breath. As he collected Marcus' soul, he gave Mae and I the most hateful look I've ever seen on anyone's face. We just clung together because we knew from then on all we had was each other." The female buried her head in the mortician's robes. "Rarities never know their real parents, Adrian. We're taken away at birth and raised in the temple."

Something inside the silver reaper snapped. Guilt? Shame? Sadness? He wasn't sure, but one thing he was sure of, it hurt. It hurt to know that his indirect involvement with the death of Stella's birth parents, whom she never even knew, along with hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of other Empaths was the last straw. It's what finally pushed him to retire. What he didn't understand was waiting until so many other beings who harmed no one were needlessly slaughtered before giving up the reaper lifestyle. He was going to do it anyway, eventually, officially, but what was it about the destruction of a virtually uncharted realm that caused him to defect? He had his reasons, but what was the _real_ reason? And his close friend who had reaped alongside him for centuries? His becoming a guardian to two such lovely girls-one of which he held close to him now and was falling much too hard and fast for in spite of himself-was not only, unexpected, but highly illegal, thereby making him a defector in his own realm. The pain increased at the thoughts, making his heart shatter. Something wet slid down the mortician's cheek, catching him by surprise.

*Am I...crying?*

Before the lavender lady continued her sorrowful tale, something wet dripped on the crook of her neck in a random pattern while some of the moisture slid down her collarbone in delicate rivulets.

~Why is he crying? Since when do reapers cry? But he's not like other reapers.~

Despite her promise to him regarding the invasion of his subconscious, she felt it necessary in this instance to break it. She knew he wouldn't tell her what brought on his sudden change in mood.

~He's such a secretive man.~

This time, however, she wouldn't reveal her knowledge of his subconscious. So, in she went, and it was just like the nightmare she had a couple of months ago on the night before the first time she woke up in the beautiful reaper's arms. Because he had held her that night, she was able to dream through his subconscious without him being aware. She caught something else in her current journey in his mind that wasn't there in the dream that the reaper was grappling with, which could also be the cause of his tears: his deeper feelings for her. The timing is too soon, but the fear of losing her and once again being condemned to a life of loneliness outweighed the convention of timing in matters of the heart. It broke her heart that he bore scars that ran deeper than the surface of the skin, but no one would notice as he was so adept at covering them with comedy. No wonder he hardly has a grip on his sanity.

In order to prevent herself from revealing her knowledge regarding the reaper's reason for his sudden mood swing, the petite lady decided to continue her story. "Mae and I were carted off to a laboratory in your realm where we were experimented on. I won't go into that again. We grew closer while we were there until we eventually became lovers. Well, more than lovers. She was special to me and I to her. All of us were abused, drugged, and raped. Somehow, Mae and I would get days outside and we'd run off to a little hideaway and talk and make love or just enjoy the silence and each other. Then, it all stopped the day she was destroyed when that son of a bitch vivisected her and humiliated her in death. His blue eyes shined like the sun that day. He was so filthy! Then, this red person with a chainsaw impaled her and collected her soul. What is it with you people? Empaths belong to the Goddess!" The weapon curled up in the mortician's lap, attempting to hide in his cloak. It was both sad and amusing.

The legend didn't know how to respond. Under any other circumstance, he'd tease the girl's antics, but given the current situation, such behavior was highly inappropriate. The couple's severe height discrepancy served her well because she managed to hide the entirety of her form inside his loose cloak. The reaper felt her small arms squeeze his waist.

*How did she unbutton this thing without me noticing?*

"I love you so much, Adrian," came a muffled whisper from within the aforementioned man's cloak.

"What was that, Lovely?" A question delicately posed to a delicate woman hiding in a cloak from her own pain.

"Nothing!" her muffled voice huffed as she buried her face in the mortician's side, making him giggle. "Don't laugh at me."

"Don't tickle me!" he snapped.

That response was enough to bring the sobbing girl out of hiding. Curious glowing eyes studied the reaper's for any signs of deception, and finding none, she mischievously smiled. "You're ticklish?"

"Please don't," he pleaded.

"What do I get if I don't tickle you?"

"First, tell me what you said."

"Nothing, I was just thinking out loud."

"Bullocks. I heard my name, my real name," the silver legend spoke in a serious tone, though the love in his eyes betrayed it.

"Fine," the experiment groaned, knowing there was no way she was going to get out of this predicament. "I said 'I love you so much, Adrian.' It just slipped out. Are you satisfied now?"

The legendary prototype's eerie green eyes took on a unique glow as a satisfied, yet warm smile graced his features at hearing the woman's confession. She stared back at him, face flushed scarlet with embarrassment. He lifted her chin up with his index finger, then with both hands on either side of her lovely face, kissed her with sweet abandon. "I love you as well, Lovely," the legend murmured softly as they continued to explore each other's mouths. "But, I must warn you," he said, pulling away only slightly. "I am a very possessive man. I will do everything in my power to protect what is mine." The reaper cocked his head to the side and tucked a stray tendril of lavender behind the lady's ear. His hypnotic green eyes searched her glowing blue and green orbs for signs of understanding.

She simply responded by sweeping his bangs out of his eyes and gently combing her delicate fingers through his silver hair. "Do you mean it? I mean, you're not doing it out of pity?" The mortician nodded, pulling her against him. "Good, I'm glad." She beamed and kissed him softly with half lidded eyes as she wrapped her limbs around him. Electric shivers passed between the prototypes, intensifying the glow of their eyes as they gradually deepened the kiss with a certain inexplicable tenderness neither individual had a grasp on quite yet. They savored the moment locked in each other's illuminated gaze.

"Your eyes are glowing," the mortician pointed out as he tapped the girl's nose with the end of his fingernail.

"So are yours," she replied, poking his cheek, making him blush for a change. "Look who's blushing now!" A welcome round of giggles burst out of the girl. "You look so cuuuuute when you blush!"

Both beings had a good belly laugh at the lavender haired woman's horrible attempt at impersonating the mortician's teasing tone of voice. Both were even happier that their love for the other would not go unrequited.

~He really does look cute when he blushes.~


	7. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
> 
> Extremely graphic violence, certain *parts* are removed, definitely not for the sqeamish. Suicide via mind control.  
> *YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED*  
> Sexy time! If you're expecting smut, so sorry, you get erotica instead. It's more fun. Also trichophilia time! Trichophilia is basically a hair fetish. Notably the hair on your head.  
> *YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED*
> 
> Thanks to all who took time out to read this twisted tale of mine. *waves* Enjoy!

It was dark for two in the afternoon, but that's not unusual for a storm swollen sky on any given day. She had hoped to make it back to her love-to her reaper-before the bruised sky meted out its punishment on those foolish enough to remain outside in May's wrath. The month of May and the storms that it brings. How it makes the blood so much easier to wash away.

~May.~

She would have made it before the sudden onslaught of severe weather if two thieves hadn't tried to stop her first.

~...Mae...~

She just wanted to bring home her wares and watch her silver reaper do what he does best. Maybe later he'll feed her obsession again with another braid or perhaps a French twist with those wonderful nails tugging through the strands, grazing her scalp, and making her shiver with delight. Ah, but it was a little late for that as she was stuck staring down two thieves barely a street away from the shop. One of them held her at gunpoint while the other dug relentlessly through the shopping bag, violently throwing its contents around in search of something worthwhile. Jars rolled around aimlessly, bottles broke as they hit the ground, thuds and splats of groceries were audible in the alleyway as they, too, plummeted to their deaths. Cold black irises scanned the immediate area, finding most of the cosmetic supplies destroyed amongst the useless groceries, however, the embalming supplies were still salvageable for the most part. A harsh laugh broke the sweeping gaze of the black eyed petite.

"Hey, mate," the gunman slurred. "Looks like that old bastard has 'imself a lil' playtoy, eh?" He nodded at the items strewn about the trio in the alleyway and tapped the muzzle of the gun on the petite girl's head. "How old are ya, lil' girl? Ya shouldn't be out 'ere without yer parents." He let out a high pitched round of ironic cackling that his partner in crime quickly caught onto and followed suit.

"Yeah..." He perused the items displayed before him, obviously not realizing what he was throwing around at first until he picked up a jar of formaldehyde. "I don't think that old loon'll mind if we...borrow her for a while." 

~Yes he will.~ Her soft, airy voice sliced straight into both men's subconscious minds simultaneously. 

The entirety of her eyes became glaring obsidian. Lavender tendrils crept out of their delicately positioned places from within the intricate style the mortician gave her that morning. Her face was expressionless, body motionless, but her mind was lethal.

~I know all about you and your partner in crime over there. It's in more ways than one, isn't it? You like to watch, don't you?~

"Hey!" the gunman protested.

~And you. I know all about what a big pervert you are. But, honestly, do you prefer boys or girls?~

"What the-" the unarmed man looked at the lady in black with an angry, bewildered expression.

~I know~ The soft, airy voice danced in their subconscious minds. ~You like to watch while he does all the work, isn't that right? You think that watching little ones get violated isn't as bad as being their violator?~

The flabbergasted gunman dropped to his knees, unsure of how to respond, so he shook his head in disbelief.

~Do you honestly think I'm some child you can take advantage of?~

The gunman had no excuses, no defense, nothing to say for himself as he muttered broken apologies to an unsympathetic woman. The voice in his head was not his own, yet it drove him on, urged him to put the pistol in his mouth and pull the trigger. He shut his eyes, rain disguising tears he forgot he could cry, and obeyed the command in his head as a clap of thunder camouflaged the sound of his final egress. At least he would be spared the sight of what was to come.

~Now you...you prefer little boys, don't you? I bet you were preferred when you were a little boy, too. You'll take little girls. It doesn't matter to you. As long as they're young and can't fight back. Am I right?~

"Fucking bitch! Whore! Only a whorish monster would willingly shack up with that necrophiliac! You call _me_ a pervert! Me? _Me!_ At least I like them alive!" the child raping thief bellowed.

The lavender woman's blackened orbs seemed to narrow at the man with a ghostly snarl appearing and disappearing on her pouty lips, however, her gaze remained fixed on her target. The voice that was once soft and airy in his subconscious became cold and sharp as she let her next choice of words cut deeper into the breaking man's psyche.

~So says the boy who took it up the ass from his old man and liked it.~

"W-what's wrong w-with..." the sick thief trailed off. In a blur of confused tears he'd unwittingly picked up a fairly large shard of glass and had already cut open one wrist.

~Go on, join your friend. He was more than ready to escape. Hurry now.~

The woman in black continued to stare, motionless, at the man who attempted to rob her. She had broken him, but she wasn't satisfied yet. He'd already sliced his other wrist and was bleeding profusely. It was time to get creative. He insulted her silver love and she wouldn't stand for it.

~Get rid of it.~ The cold, steel blade of her voice cut deeper and deeper still into his mind. ~Get. Rid. Of. It. You're useless. It is useless.~

Knowing on the deepest level what the black eyed woman meant, the mugger loosened his trousers and crudely removed his manhood with the familiar jagged shard of glass he'd used on his wrists. Something akin to regret swam in the child rapist's (and sometimes thief's) eyes as he stared at the woman. "What are you?" he slurred as he dropped to his knees. His head lolled around unsteadily and came back to gaze upon the girl with glazed over dirt brown eyes in hope for some logical explanation out her.

~I'm just a friend, and as a friend, I have a word of advice. I suggest that you keep your eyes off of me.~

The eeriness of her voice echoing deep inside his mind prompted the man to claw his eyes out. He was dying anyway, so what difference would a matter of misinterpretation make in the end? For the briefest of split seconds before the optic nerves snapped, the filthy man saw the female's eyes transform to their original state. A look of abject horror would have been frozen on his face had he not clawed his eyes out, but no one would ever know the fear he felt as he finally collapsed, face down, in a pool of his own undignified blood.

A dirty brown eye staring up at the lavender haired woman from the tip of her shoe reminded her of the deed she had just done. She couldn't scream. She was too shocked to utter a sound.

~I've done it again! How am I going to explain myself?~

Then she remembered she needed to get back to the shop. Surely, Undertaker would be worried about her. She salvaged everything she could, knowing full well she'd probably have to explain the missing or damaged items when she arrived. He was going to be pissed, especially about the socks. He loved his frilly, pink socks.

~But they can easily be cleaned.~

The female kicked an eyeball away from her shoe as she prepared to leave the alleyway as discretely as possible. Seeing no one around, she exited into the side street heading to the funeral parlor. What she was totally unaware of was a certain pruner wielding reaper spying on her from a rooftop a few buildings away just outside of range of her senses.

xxxxxx

The petite female hastily dropped the wet shopping bag on the floor next to a coffin and ran upstairs to the bedroom without a word to the mortician. She stripped herself of her clothing, throwing it in the middle of the floor and dashed into the bathroom to draw a hot bath. She didn't even wait for the tub to fill up before she got in. She undid her hair, throwing the pins in a frenzy of flying metal while waiting for the water to reach the level she preferred. She picked the closest scented oil to add to the scalding hot water. She didn't care. She wanted to relax after her ordeal. Finally, it was off with the water, and on with the relaxing, which didn't last long when she heard the mortician knock on the door, asking permission to enter. She groaned and granted his request. Expecting the worst, the lavender winter sunk deeper into the water, attempting to melt into its heat. She paid more attention to the dusty swirls of lavender floating around her submerged body than she did to the other presence in the room.

~I did it again, but they were going to hurt me and take our things. Who's "our"? Oh, that's right! Him. The man with unnecessary shadows. They called him a necro-~

"STELLA!"

"Huh?" The confused female looked up in a daze, suddenly jarred from her thoughts. The sweet face of her companion was leaning his head on the rim of the tub and smiling at her despite the worried look in his acidic eyes. She peeked through wet hair and saw that he removed his outer robes and the odd top hat. A tinge of pink dusted her cheeks when she caught herself staring too long.

"What has you so bothered that you had to run up here without speaking to me? Have I upset you?" The silver braid behind the reaper's right ear lazily fell into the water as he tilted his head to the left. She didn't feel like answering him at the moment. Instead, she opted to play with the stray silver braid. For the sake of comfort, the first month also laid her head on the rim of the tub beside that of her companion's. His taloned fingers softly stroked her cheek. "Have I done anything to upset you, Lovely?" he asked again.

No response came from the beginning of the year.

*What has got her so upset? It's quite unusual for her.*

"I dismember people by thinking," she said through gritted teeth. "They...fucking deserved it, alright! They deserved to be their own end! One of them...I hate humans! They...They called you a necrophiliac and a pervert because...well, you know why. Then, they tried to rob me and kidnap me to do who knows what kind of perverse things with me!" The project wept bitter, cold tears. "Does anyone know how old I am? Do _you_ even know how old I am?"

The silver haired man listened intently to the shivering petite mess in the bath. He knew what she was capable of and could care less if she used her power. In fact, it fascinated him. Ultimately, all he wanted was for her to be safe and happy.

*Heehee. 'I dismember people by thinking.' What a peculiar lady my Lovely is, but that's what I adore about her.*

"Come on, Lovely," the reaper cooed. "You're shivering. You need to get out of the water. You don't want to get sick, do you? Hehehe." He gathered some towels and allowed the girl to dry herself. "Better, eh?" She yelped in surprise when she felt herself being lifted off the floor and carried to the bed where a fresh gown was waiting.

~Somehow, he always knows.~

"Tell me then, how old are you?"

"I'm fifty-five, but most people place me between twelve to fourteen on account of my stature. It's not easy being 5'2" and looking far younger than you are. All Empaths are short. Occasionally, a tall one will crop up, but those are always Rarities. Oh, and Rarities don't age, so when I'm 100 or 200, I'll still look the same." The experiment laughed humorlessly. 

~If Mae were still alive she'd be fifty-three.~

The male merely raised an eyebrow. A hungry flash passed over his phosphorescent eyes as he watched the experimental beauty shake damp lavender tresses over the back of her newly donned gown. He silently coiled his arms around the still shivering lady, nuzzling his face in her hair. He closed his eyes, pleasurably taking in the sweet smell of mimosa blossoms. As per usual, he gave in to the compulsion to detangle the fine, lavender mess that he found absolutely delectable, like a confectioner's treat.

*How fascinating it is that these creatures are born with such vibrant colors, only to have them blacked out, erased. Such a shame.*

Winter let loose a heated moan from parted lips as the mortician released the final tangle from a long strand of lavender at the nape of her neck. She pressed her body close to his, taking pleasure in the feeling of his long nails scratching the surface of her skin. A sharp pain quickly overshadowed by pleasure was present on her neck, just an inch or so above her collarbone. She felt it again and something wet trickled out of it. Blood? Then, something moist seemed to soothe it, and then the sharp pain...That's when she realized Undertaker had just claimed her. "Oh Goddess!" Winter's ice melted in the reaper's warm embrace. She turned to face him with a rabid hunger in her glowing eyes. Her delicate fingers twined themselves around his silver braid, sending cold chills through her body followed by a sudden sensation of warmth. "Adrian..."

The reaper placed a long finger over her lips, and as if reading her mind, replaced it with his lips. "The feeling is mutual, Lovely," he purred, pulling her on top of him. He kissed her gently at first, then gradually it became more passionate as each layer of clothing was shed. A low growl thrummed in the silver haired man's chest as the experiment teased him with the ends of her lavender tresses the way an artist wields a paintbrush. She only stopped to nibble at the loops in his nipples and to practice her own brand of oratory on the secretly pierced part of him. The petite yelped as she was roughly pulled up by her hair to meet the ravenous double irises of the pale reaper.

"Harder," the petite moaned. "Pull harder." The reaper happily obliged and plunged his fingers into a sea of lavender. "Do it, Adrian! Pull hard!" At the female's command, he twisted his fingers into the fair sea and pulled to her heart's content. Delicate fingers crept into a silver sea to return the favor. "Your hair is so soft, Adrian," the girl breathed into their kiss. "You're beautiful."

"And you're a little masochist," the mortician replied with a lighthearted giggle. He captured her lips in a hungry kiss. "But, you're my little masochist," he said, trailing kisses down her throat and to each of her breasts while she knotted her fingers deeper into silver tresses.

"I am."

Death felt like heaven inside of her. His black nails left red lines down her back as she snapped her hips, only to further fuel her hunger for him. Winter's unfurled lavender hair splayed out over her naked form, sticking to some parts of her in sweaty strings while others moved in tandem with her delicately viscous movements. She felt like heaven above him. The dead of winter pulled the legend up by his silver hair and wrapped her legs around his waist. He held her close, letting their bodies meld into one. He was hers. Two sets of illuminated feral eyes stared at each other as Death and winter blurred the lines of pleasure and pain, gluttony and famine. He was the key that unlocked her secret places, and she was the goddess to his cult. And in their lover's names, they cried out, passion spent.

xxxxxx

The lavender haired woman was sleeping safely in her beautiful reaper's arms, but could sense someone near his shop. It was the one with the chainsaw who had taken Mae's soul after those sick eugenicists humiliated her in death.

~And they forced me to watch because they _knew_ we were lovers.~

January was unsure if the red reaper was friend or foe. She knew that the stoic male with the pruners was an enemy to her. He killed the only father figure she knew without mercy or remorse. On the day she killed Arnold Glass, all the stern, uptight reaper cared about were rules and regulations, not her well being. It was obvious by the look he gave her as she silently begged with unshed tears in agonized blue and green eyes. He had looked at her with such hate and disgust while keeping the rest of his expression neutral except for the occasional irritated twitch of the eyebrow.

~As if that matters.~

"Stella, love, are you alright?" the groggy mortician mumbled. He wiped a stray tear off his lady's cheek, lightly grazing her eyelashes.

"I was just thinking about things and my mind wandered down the usual dark path." She rolled over, facing the legend and moved his shaggy bangs out of his eyes. "You really did a number on my neck," the petite said enthusiastically, hoping to change the subject.

The silver prototype softly kissed the mark he left on the female's neck. A genuine, happy smile stretched across his face. "That's because you're mine, Lovely. No one else can have you. Just as I am yours and no one else can have me."

"My people don't believe in caging wild animals," the Rarity said softly.

"You're a peculiar creature, aren't you?" the mortician chuckled. "That's not what I meant at all, Lovely. As I said, I'm a very possessive man, and I will do everything in my power to protect what is mine, but I will never hurt you. I will never deny you your freedom."

"Good. I would've been disheartened if you were trying to tie me down. My people don't believe in that." She smiled, draping an arm over the reaper's slim waist and nuzzled into his chest. She looked up suddenly, blue and green locking onto double irises of acidic green; both sets of glowing eyes gazing intense curiosity at each other. "Adrian, I adore you."


	8. Merge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's communication/thoughts =
> 
> Thanks to all who stopped by to read my twisted tale of twisted twistiness. Enter the Ikiryo. The Ikiryo in my story is very loosely based off of the Ikiryo of Japanese legend. So, no chastising. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_~Hurt. Everything hurts. Why are my own people doing this to me? What is that thing in the glass cage with the black eyes? It's so scary. I wanna go home! I want Mae! I want Marcus! Why do these people-~_

_"No! No more shots! NO! NO! NO! STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!" the lavender child cried out in fear and rage. Her mind unwittingly summoned the power to throw the Empath scientists away from her. The poor child hadn't the slightest idea that she was going to be a prototype for the most advanced eugenics project in all the realms. She would be made into the ultimate weapon to serve a higher purpose for a war of retribution._

_The eugenicist called for backup while the frightened girl threw her tantrum. Two more male Empaths stepped in along with a bespectacled pruner wielding reaper. The girl, however, never relented in her fit of crying rage as the three newcomers approached. If she could, she would run away, but her little legs were heavily restrained to the examination table._

_"I WANT TO GO HOME NOW, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!"_

_The black haired Empath tsk'd, "Now, now, young lady, it's inappropriate to use foul language at such a young age."_

_His sarcastic tone of voice garnered snickers from the other males in the room except for the stoic reaper. He stood there, expressionless, save for the disgust swimming in the green and gold of his double irises each time they swept over the little Rarity._

_"I wanna go home!" the little girl cried desperately._

_Pruning shears zipped through the air, clamped around the girl's throat, and held her in place with just enough pressure to keep her immobilized long enough for the other males to finish restraining her limbs. Once she was completely secured, the mean looking reaper retracted his Death scythe and exited the room, leaving her alone with the other three males of her own kind._

_~But they're not...~_

_The first scientist reapproached her with a needle full of a dark purple substance. This time, she was unable to thrash about. All she could do was cry like the child she was. His blue Empath's eyes glowed eerily as he held the needle in front of his face, his grin stretching wider as more unnecessary shadows absorbed the contours of his smooth skin. Softly chuckling to himself, "This won't hurt a bit, my pretty."_

_The little lavender girl's big mismatched eyes glistened with terrified tears as the mad scientist injected purple poison into her bloodstream. It burned like hellfire and froze her to the bone all at once._

_"STOP! STOP! STOP!"_

xxxxxx

"STOP! STOP! STOP!" Silent screams spilled from the Rarity's mouth.

"...Lovely!...up...-mare. Please, wa-..."

"STOP!" Another soundless shout emitted from the thrashing female stuck between two realities.

"Wake up! ..........Lovely."

Blackened pits snapped open, scanning their surroundings. They landed on a silver haired male with bangs covering half of his scarred face. She gave him a quick once over. Pale skin, long scars taking their place on random parts of his body, obviously very tall-6'5" by her estimate, tactical advantage-and long limbed, thin, athletic build, long fingers, long nails, long hair, and he's...naked and quite well endowed. She, too, was naked beneath the plush pink blanket.

=Did they make love last night?=

She of the black eyes roughly pulled back the male's silver bangs. The most beautiful pair of piercing green double irises, framed by unnaturally long, silver lashes looked back at her.

=Everything about him is long.=

They were the kind of reaper's eyes that couldn't lie. He was a prototype; the first and most powerful of his kind. He is brutality. He _is_ Death. But the way he treated her, and the way he looked at her with his stunning eyes...He was always so gentle with her, never lost his patience with her, and was ever so devoted to her. She was special to him, and she didn't understand why. It's not a weapon's job to understand such things.

=Those eyes. Oh Goddess! I could live in the eyes of Legendary Death.=

Hollow obsidian stared desperately into phosphorescent green as she struggled to find her voice. It didn't sound quite as soft and airy as it did when it was inside someone's mind, rather, it sounded like the staccato of a Gatling gun merging with the soprano of an opera singer. The sound cruelly reverberated in the ears and minds of anyone listening to hear as she opened her mouth to speak her first words, "Ex nihilo." Her eyes searched his for understanding. "Can you love a weapon like you love her?" She could hear herself in her mind, but wasn't sure if he heard her cries as well. "Can you love the bastard child of the Goddess?"

She realized she was only mouthing her pleas frantically at the reaper, yet he continued to show her compassion, and paid no mind to the small hands twisting silver around them in desperation. She could tell by the eyes that couldn't lie that he loved her, that he'd do anything for her. A foreign substance leaked from one of her eyes and slid down her cheek. Some sweet words were whispered in her ear that she didn't understand the meaning of as long, battle scarred arms wrapped around her. More of the foreign substance leaked from the black pits of her eyes and slid down her pallid cheeks, leaving her wondering if she was broken and in need of repair...or

=Is this what it feels like to be loved?=

She felt abandoned. Oh Goddess, did she feel lost and confused. She closed her eyes and returned the reaper's embrace.

=Do weapons deserve love? Do the bastard children of the Goddess deserve love? Do _I_ deserve love?=

She had to reevaluate herself. This certainly was not her life prior to the eugenics program. All of these feelings were foreign to her. The rush of warmth, the feel of Legendary Death's arms around her. If the goal of the eugenics program was to create a new being out of her and the beloved child of the Goddess, then it worked too well.

xxxxxx

_=I am Yurei. I know the memories of the dead better than any being. I am not Shinigami as I can possess the mind of the living and cause them to be their own end. I am not demon as I do not feast upon their souls. Yurei have no place above or below, but we are not neutral. We are banished to the mortal realm to roam about for all time._

_I am Ikiryo. I am formless; an outcast among the bastard children of the Goddess. I do not know emotion. I am the negative to the Rarity. She is she. I am you. Rarities are revered, Ikiryos are reviled._

_She is she. I am you._

_I am the oldest Ikiryo. The others didn't care when a group of female Empaths came for me. As a matter of fact, they were more than happy to send the Formless One away in an Unwilling Host. I had a premonition that more would soon follow. What would the Goddess' fruit want with their bastard siblings? My curiosity was piqued when we reached familiar grounds: The Great Library. I hushed my thoughts and turned my focus outward to the surrounding environment as the three female Empaths strode past the Great Library to a non descript white building standing isolated among its peers. The three grass eyed women talked excitedly among themselves, the glow of their eyes brightening and dimming with each corresponding emotion._

_An effeminate Shinigami sashayed past us, flipping his long, beautiful red hair over his shoulder as he went by. His black and red stiletto ankle boots clicked the cement and stopped abruptly when he was greeted by one of the ladies._

_"Hi,_ Mr. _Sutcliff," the female blond greeted sarcastically, eliciting snickers from her companions._

_The redhead narrowed his eyes. "It's_ MISS _Sutcliff. What do you...ladies want?" (I suppose I should address the redhead as a she, seeing as that is what is preferred. I can't tap into the Shinigami's mind from inside a useless corpse.) She gave the green eyed trio a fake smile full of shark like teeth._

_"We just wanted to ask for your help transporting this...thing with us to the electrical engineering lab," the black haired Empath cooed._

_The Shinigami's grin grew wider. "Only if I can paint the walls red with your blood." A chainsaw appeared in her hands; a Death Scythe. "If not, I have souls to reap."_

_The black haired Empath scoffed. "Not on your pitiful life, Grell."_

_"Just help us already. Dammit!" the blond demanded impatiently._

_The chainsaw wielding reaper cocked her head to the side and giggled like a deranged school girl. "Fuck you." She winked and ported out to the mortal realm to presumably go reaping. I like Grell's attitude._

_I am a test subject. My sense of time is nonexistent as a supernatural being. I've been trapped inside an Unwilling Host, unable to probe the minds around me. I know I'm in some kind of laboratory. I'm constantly being bombarded by electrical currents meant to simulate the merging of myself and a Rarity's consciousness. An unusually tall female Empath with a sad glow to her rich green eyes has been caring for me. She understands the concept of Ikiryo._

_I am not alone. I find myself relocated to a different laboratory. An unconscious little girl with lavender hair is rolled in on a stretcher and laid out on an examination table. She is carefully restrained by her limbs and torso. The female scientist that cared for me has been replaced by three males, and their sky blue eyes are aglow with malice and, dare I say, lust. A tall stone faced man wearing a black business suit with neatly parted black hair, rectangular framed glasses, gripping pruning shears stood at the ready. He glared at the little girl in outright contempt with double irises of gold and green. How can anyone hate such a tiny thing?_

_One of the men strips the girl of her clothes and attaches electrodes to her body. Her eyes open revealing a dull blue and green glow. Mismatched, a Rarity. I now realize that her genetic code has been cracked and the eugenics program is beginning with us. We will be the prototype. I feel nothing for her as I am a stranger to emotions, however, I do find the ethics questionable, and the fact that children are being used as lab rats morally objectionable. They are too young to give consent to an experiment of this magnitude. They lack the cognitive functioning to make those kinds of decisions._

_A long needle is inserted into her tiny arm. She whimpers as green liquid is pumped through her veins. Then, violent spasms take over her small body that, thankfully, the restraints keep her from flinging herself off the table._

_Her tiny voice squeaked out a prayer to the Goddess in a dead language before slipping into a coma._

_For several weeks they'd experiment on her. She'd always stare at me with huge mismatched eyes. The fright was plainly written on her face, but the curious glow her eyes emitted betrayed it. The blue eyed Empaths confirmed their findings with their green eyed counterpart and the project was ready to commence. We were to be merged at once._

_On that fateful day, I found out why a Shinigami had been present. I had nothing to fear. I have no soul to reap, but the girl...That's when I saw him coming for me. I peered around him to the best of my ability and saw the girl hooked up to monitors with an IV drip. A pair of long, hair thin needles were inserted into the corners of her eyes and her mouth was bound so she couldn't open it to scream. In fact, she was completely restrained from head to toe to keep her from moving. I, inside the Unwilling Host, was placed on an exam table beside the Rarity's under minimal restraints (what's a useless corpse going to do?, and an identical set of needles were inserted into the corners of the Unwilling Host's eyes. A machine buzzed and I felt myself leave the cold emptiness of the dead body. Then, I felt a sudden rush of warmth cradle me. A new consciousness tried merging with me, but I can't allow it. We will only coexist independently and that is all._

_Her shrieking and crying still do not move me. I am still a stranger to emotion, but not to the memories of the living or the dead. I am Ikiryo._

_She is she. I am me. We are one weapon. Code name: January.=_

xxxxxx

The silver reaper laid beside his precious ice storm who stirred and whimpered every once in a while until she finally went limp. Her heart rate slowed to a snail's pace and her breathing was shallow enough to fool the untrained eye into believing that she had slipped into unconsciousness.

*Please wake up, Lovely.*

He placed but a ghost of a kiss on her lips.

*Please wake up, Lovely.*

He wrapped his arms around her protectively, drawing her close to him. It's been two, going on three days and he hasn't left her side. "I love you," he said, kissing the crown of her head.

*Please wake up, Lovely.*

"I'm awake."

This time blue and green met his concerned, but powerless gaze. The Rarity blinked several times, trying to adjust her vision. Something felt strange with her eyes and her mind as if she was once blind and had been given the gift of sight.

=She is she and I am you.=

The Ikiryo.

=She is me and I am she.=

The Ikiryo is merging with her memories. "I have a headache. How long was I sleeping, Adrian?"

The legendary reaper couldn't avert his eyes from his lover. Her eyes...

*Her eyes...They've changed.*

It seems the eugenics program was too successful with January. He was about to open his mouth to answer her when she vanished into thin air, leaving the faint blue and green afterglow of her eyes.


	9. Purge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to check out the story. *waves*
> 
> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts & communication =
> 
> More sexy time, now with more kink, and if you squint hard enough you might see a tiny bit of smut. If slight bloodplay and masochism isn't right for you, you might want to skip over the festivities in this chapter. **You have been warned.**  
> Enjoy!

The reaper's oncoming panic was alleviated when he heard retching noises coming from the adjoining bathroom.

*How did she just vanish like that?*

He quietly opened the door and approached the sick girl with concern written all over his pale, scarred face. Somewhere within the depths of his green eyes, confusion lurked like a stalking shadow, though he endeavored to keep it hidden for her sake. "Are you alright, Lovely?" he softly inquired, kneeling beside her. He gently raked his nails through sweaty lavender clumps, pulling them away from the trembling Rarity's face and draping them over her back. Her skin was feverish, and dripping with sweat. She felt like the fires of the deepest depths of Hell, which concerned him greatly. He knew in the back of his mind that that a merger of two complete, independent beings was taking place, yet he hadn't the faintest idea how to help the woman ease her distress. "I'll go fetch you some cool water," the reaper stated in a soft, clinical tone. The sick woman weakly nodded and resumed vomiting.

The experiment slowly turned her head to face the legend when she felt something moist and cool pressed against her forehead. "How long was I asleep, Adrian?" she asked the man holding the cold, wet cloth against her forehead.

"Almost three days."

The female stared wide eyed in shock at her lover, silently echoing his reply before returning to her next round of nauseous fury. The lavender ice purged years of the eugenics program from her body: the powerful drugs; the experiments, especially the field tests; the abuse, torture, and being forced to witness it done to the others; the rapes from the time she arrived until the day she escaped; being forced to watch the death of Mae; and fear, especially fear. She no longer understood fear. A kaleidoscope of bitter fire spewed forth from within, eliminating all that held back the lavender haired woman from accessing her full power. She purged weakness from herself. Empath and Yurei had merged. Rarity and Ikiryo had joined. She was One.

"We are one," the petite said, her voice unaffected by the change. "I am me, you are you. I am you, you are me. We are one." The weapon snapped her head up and grabbed the reaper's hand, digging her nails into his flesh deep enough to draw blood. Her mismatched eyes glowed desperately in their dark confines. "Can you still love a weapon? Can you still love me knowing what I am, what I've become?"

"Can _you_ still love someone who doesn't hesitate to kill their own kind to keep their weapon?" the silver haired reaper inquired with a raised eyebrow as he summoned his Death Scythe. "This has been with me for a very long time, since before any of the other reapers came into existence. It's a part of me, and I won't give it up."

The petite's eyes went wide and glowed with succulent brightness as she beheld her lover and his weapon in awe. She hardly noticed the sound of glass shattering when her cup of water hit the floor. The weapon _was_ him. Silver, long, intimidating, beautiful, powerful, brutal, and oddly gentle. She couldn't help but wonder how much bloodshed the partial skeleton with a large, gently curved crescent blade jutting out of the back of its thorny crown adorned skull had seen. Images of him wrapping his long fingers around the single exaggerated vertebrae that served as the shaft in the same sensual way he does when he braids her hair made her crave more of him. The hilt finished off as a normal backbone should, right down to the coccyx, which also left her questioning whether or not that end had seen the insides of any other beings in the midst of battle. The Death Scythe was an effigy of a biological weapon, whereas, she was the reality.

~Oh, Goddess! He's so beautiful! He is Death Incarnate.~

"I love you even more than ever," the reaper's lover replied.

"Then, that should answer your question."

The female held her hand out, preventing the reaper from banishing his scythe. "Don't," she quietly demanded. "You're so beautiful with your weapon." Experimental hands slid over the legend's as she adoringly looked him in the eye. "It's a testament to you, my love."

A wicked grin crossed the mortician's face when without warning he grabbed one of the girl's hands and whirled her around, pinning her back against his chest with the shaft of his Death Scythe. "You're so adorable when you squeak, Lovely," he said with a smirk. The intimidating blade was inches from the woman's face, but she displayed no fear. A curtain of silver tumbled over the the petite's shoulder as her lover bent down to whisper sweet words in her ear. "You are mine, and I will always protect you." He banished the weapon in favor of holding another.

The snowy destroyer nuzzled her head in her reaper's chest as she looked up and smiled at him with softly glowing eyes. She moaned as he lightly trailed ebony talons down her throat. "I love you, Adrian," the tattooed ice purred.

"As I love you, Stella," the silver haired mortician whispered darkly. He kissed her with an unquenchable passion that she returned in equal measure.

xxxxxx

Unbeknownst to him, he was now within range of her senses. He narrowed his chartreuse eyes at Undertaker's shop a few streets over, pushing up his glasses with the end of his Death Scythe.

=I see you in darkness. I feel you.=

A chill ran down the reaper's spine. He felt like he was the one being watched this time. "Always more overtime for me and never enough pay," the stoic man grumbled to himself. He shivered slightly as another chill acquainted itself with his spine.

=I see you in darkness. I feel you.=

The manager brushed off the feeling and leaped off the roof he was currently occupying and disappeared into the night.

xxxxxx

The experiment watched the mortician stitch up the mangled corpse before him. It was one of hers. The Yard brought him in sometime during her lengthy sleep. Since she joined with the Yurei completely, the grotesque nature of the deaths she influenced no longer frightened her. A tiny giggle escaped her lips as the mortician skillfully reattached the cadaver's severed parts. He plopped the dead man's eyes in a small jar of formaldehyde and sewed the lids shut, giving the illusion that the perverted scumbag was peacefully dreaming of youngsters to traumatize.

"What's so funny, my lady?" Undertaker grinned and giggled into his sleeve. "Here." He passed the jar with the dead man's shit brown eyes floating inside to his fair haired lover. "A gift from the deceased. Ehehehehe!"

The petite wiggled the jar, sloshing the liquid inside, and watched the eyeballs bounce off of each other in random directions. "See no evil..."

This earned an earthshaking laugh from the madman. "I'm guessing this is your work." The reaper stepped forward and claimed the lavender lady's lips, lighting up her blue and green orbs. The mortician's sharp teeth dug into his favorite spot on her neck, tearing at the tender flesh like a starved animal. The coppery sweetness of her blood danced on his taste buds as he slowly looped his tongue around the wound. He was far too engrossed in torturing his lover's sensitive flesh to notice the petite hands making quick work of the buttons on his robes until something soft and delicate made the scarred surface of his abdomen quiver. A devilish smirk hidden by the female's scarlet stained neck spread across the mortician's lips when he saw the lavender weapon fumble with the complicated array of fastenings on his leather pants. He darkly chuckled in her ear. "Now, Lovely," he paused to take a harsh nibble at the shell of her ear. "Is this one of yours, hm?" He let a single onyx talon slowly travel down the length of the woman's neck, sternum, then spiral over one small breast, and tease her nipple below the confines of worn black fabric. Then, he repeated the process on the other breast, making the petite's skin crawl under the tantalizing torture.

"It's one of mine," the creature confirmed between pleasured moans. Her small fingers delicately left angry red trails in their wake as they ran down her lover's pale chest. On impulse, she nibbled at each of the loops in his nipples, eliciting a feral growl from her lover.

"You like those, don't you?" the reaper purred in a dark, seductive, velvet voice laced with a hint of sadism. "I can give you a set if you'd like, then I can play, too. Hehehe."

The female's wide eyes lit up, unsure of how to respond. Suddenly, she found herself in the back room with the legend pinning her against the wall with her wrists high above her head. His hypnotic double irises stared down into her glowing mismatched jewels set in obsidian. Insatiable hunger glowed in his predatory gaze, which ignited the secret hunger she only partially shared with him the first time they made love. "Adrian," the female whimpered. "Neck. Hand. Wall. Up." It was the best she could do to tell her lover what she wanted so he could feed her secret hunger. 

"What are you on about, love?" the silver haired man questioned.

"Just fucking do it!"

The legendary reaper indulged his Lovely, taking her by the throat and slamming her against the wall, at which time she promptly wove her legs around his trim waist. Any worry of harming the petite was quickly thrown out the window once he got a good look at the lusty glow of her emerald and sapphire eyes. "Oh Goddess, that felt so..." the petite didn't finish her sentence with words, but with a return bite to pale flesh above the scar on the reaper's throat. She could smell trace amounts of wormwood in the blood that trickled out. 

~Wormwood.~

Long fingers tipped in black nails threaded themselves into soft lavender, and with a hard, downward pull, the female cried out his name and ground her hips against him. He gave a warning growl when he felt her slide her hands beneath his treasured hat, which she promptly obeyed, and settled for the silver strands cascading down his back instead. In one swift movement the complicated fastenings to the black leather virtually painted on the mortician's lower half were undone. He captured his vicious lavender hybrid in an animalistic kiss as he rammed her against the wall hard and fast. The experiment basked in the mixture of sensations her silver love provided: the gentle, sweet touches of his hands as they caressed her face, the aggressive pulling of her hair to the point of delighted agony, the trade off of sweet kisses and tender licks for mischievous nibbles and succulent bites dripping with crimson, and the brutal, unrelenting power radiating within the hunger driving the legend toward his deadly climax. She felt a clawed hand grasp her hair, yanking it down harder than before. She knew he was close, so she rolled her hips at a slightly different angle and felt an even harder pull to her hair and a set of sharp teeth clamp down on the crook of her neck unlocking her secret places. Her mind unconsciously summoned its psychokinetic power, sending random objects flying in equally random directions as wave after wave of painful pleasure hit her. The sharp teeth embedded in her skin dug deeper, drawing blood, as the reaper finally succumbed to his passions.

"I love you, Stella," the silver haired man whispered to his lavender love as he soothed the bite wound on the crook of her neck.

"And I love you, Adrian," the lady replied, kissing the mortician's throat. "You're beautiful when you're feral."

"And you're lovely when you're vicious."

xxxxxx

In another realm, an irritated manager stormed down the hallway, gripping his modified Death Scythe in hidden, white knuckle fury. The sound of his black, leather gloves stretching over his hand only served to further fuel his irritation. A hyperactive redhead came barreling down the pristine, white hallway toward him at full speed with her junior in tow. The manager was _not_ in the mood to deal with either of them at all.

"Senpai! Slow down! Spears-senpai looks pissed!" the blond called out to his senior.

The redhead kept running, purposefully ignoring the younger male. "Will~iam!" Stiletto heels skittered to a halt and the redhead tumbled to the floor, rubbing what was sure to become a headache later on. "That hurt, Will. You didn't have to do that," the red clad reaper whined.

"Mr. Sutcliff, I am in no mood for your foolishness," the pruner wielding man snapped. "Go finish your paperwork. I am tired of putting in overtime because of you." He turned his hard glare to the blond. "That goes for you too, Mr. Knox."

The red reaper quickly stood up, cocking a hip. "It's _MISS_ Sutcliff!" the reaper stated emphatically. "How many times do I have to tell you how to address a lady by her proper title. Let's go, Ronnie."

The manager lingered, watching his subordinates walk to their respective offices before he continued to his own. A few hours passed by, allowing him to catch up on some overdue reports. Checking the time, he noticed he had ten minutes to get to the meeting scheduled with upper management. The unemotional reaper closed his eyes and massaged his temples. "Why didn't they destroy that...thing when they had the chance? It's kind are an abomination." He sighed and gathered the necessary paperwork and field reports required for the meeting with upper management. As he rode the elevator to the top floor, he could only hope that they would allow him to destroy that abominable creature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. *dun-dun-duuuuunnnn*


	10. Violation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts & communication =
> 
> Thanks for stopping by to this glorious gorefest. Yes, there will be *graphic* violence and dismemberment. A homophobic remark appears, but keep in mind the context of the story. A slight mention of necrophilia is contained within. **Consider yourself warned.**
> 
> Don't worry, I bring relief with erotic yuri. Buuut, if you don't like girl x girl, sorry. **You have been warned.**
> 
> Enjoy!

The hybrid was in their head now. Her eerie blackened eyes were hollow pits in her pale, bloody face. Disheveled lavender hair hung about her shoulders while small clumps lay spread out around her feet. She clung to the front of her long, black dress-the only suitable article of clothing she owned-in an angry attempt to preserve what modesty she could after the front had been ripped beyond repair. Her initial disbelief that teenagers were capable of such crimes as rape and murder quickly turned to fury. 

~I just wanted to eat in peace. The drunks in the pub were more respectful than these... _things_.~

All six of the thugs were pinned to the wall by the Rarity's sheer willpower. Her obsidian eyes scanned each boy, finally settling on the tallest: a lanky blond with cropped curly hair and green eyes. He had the distinct appearance of a nobleman, as did the rest of the rotten scoundrels he tagged along with. The experiment's soft, airy voice rang out in all six boys' subconscious minds, freezing them in the fear she was engineered to elicit from her victims.

~All of you are filth. Each filthier than the last. I'm starting with you.~

The blond she was focusing on was unpinned from his place on the wall and hit the concrete with a dull thud. He was too terrified to run even though he had a chance.

~Each of you must learn from the other what the wages of sin are.~

The other five boys squirmed in a desperate attempt to free themselves, but found it completely useless against her power. One boy made a sour face when the smell of urine wafted in his direction.

"What the hell? We were just messing around!" the curly blond fearfully reasoned.

~Is that the same thing the preacher told you after his 'private' Sunday school tutoring with you? How much did you like it when his leather belt whacked you across your little bum when you were a 'bad boy', hm?~

The other five boys pinned to the wall talked amongst themselves in hushed whispers as they witnessed their friend's undoing. Most of the conversation consisted of mocking their friend's secret he kept hidden from them since boyhood. Even as the remaining boys feared for their lives, they wondered if their broken friend lying prostrate below at the female's feet went on secret trysts with those of the more masculine variety. Soft snickers circulated from the group, which were quickly silenced by their secretly violated friend's ear piercing whine.

"But, I didn't do anything wrong!" the boy sobbed. He rose to his knees, facing the expressionless woman as his hand worked on his own to pick up a discarded glass bottle. "P-please, miss, I-I was just tagging along. I-I wasn't going to do anything to you, I swear! I don't even like women like that!" he admitted.

"Did you hear that? He's a faggot!" one of the pinned boys hissed, confirming all of their suspicions.

~That matters not to me, boy. Tag-alongs are just as cruel as their leaders, and deserve to be silenced as well. Don't you want the silence to envelope you now that your little friends know your secret? Look at them up there laughing at you. Don't you crave the silence? You know what to do. Break it in half.~

The curly blond numbly followed the orders set forth by the soft, airy voice in his head and broke the bottle in half. Through a shameful haze of guilty sadness, he hesitantly pointed the sharp, jagged edges of the bottle to his throat.

~Yes, that's it.~ The voice encouraged from deep within. ~You are your own enemy. Liar, let the silence embrace you.~

Somehow, understanding what the voice in his head meant, the tall, curly haired blond rammed the object into his throat as hard as he could and twisted it clockwise then counterclockwise over and over again, severing his windpipe and several arteries. Blood spurted from his mouth as he fell on his face to die with half a bottle jutting out of his pitiful neck.

~Now then, you three.~

The experiment unpinned a set of identically dressed ginger triplets. Expressionless black pits scanned each boy. The one in the middle wet his pants in abject horror as he gazed at the hellish being staring up at him. How something this small could literally scare the piss out of him was beyond his comprehension, but apparently here he was with pants full of fresh piss. Instantly, he regretted his foray into depravity as he caught sight of the rest of the girl's features. She was so delicate aside from the eyes.

~All of you are spoiled rotten pieces of shit. And you, the one reeking of piss, last minute regrets mean nothing to me. I show _no_ mercy. I am especially merciless to puppy killers.~

The braver-or more foolish-of the three snickered. "Who cares? It's just a dumb animal."

~Perhaps you're the dumb ones for getting mixed up in things you shouldn't have. That whose power you craved did not require the wanton slaughter of your family's gifts to you. She requires no living sacrifices, especially that of Her sacred animal. Do your parents know that you go to church with them each Sunday to serve their Master while at the same time, you sneak off to serve my Mistress under false pretenses?~ 

The soft, airy voice challenged the triplets, knowing they knew nothing of her faith save for what occultists thought they knew, and even they lacked adequate knowledge. She despised people who twisted her religion into falsehoods and teenagers who used it as an excuse to rebel against a society strictly bound by a Christian moral code. None of the triplets could offer a word to excuse themselves for what they had done. 

~You will be rewarded justly for your willing sacrifices.~

The triplets sighed in relief, believing the lavender haired woman would allow them to leave with just a stern, yet cryptic warning. After all, in their minds, it was just a cruel rebellious phase they were going through. They chattered quietly amongst themselves wondering why they hadn't the ability to exit the alley behind the pub when a low growl was heard from the shadows. The triplets and two remaining boys pinned against the wall quickly fell silent as the sound increased in volume. 

~Self sacrifice is a virtue, is it not? Go, in the darkness, perhaps you may find the light.~

The spoiled boys, filled with regret, willingly walked to their deaths with open arms. Sobbing, pained wailing, broken apologies mixed with the sound of snarling growls and tearing flesh was all that was heard from the pitch black shadows. A severed arm and a dismembered foot still housed in its brown heeled loafer bounced out of the shadows with a wet plop.

The last two boys were released from the wall. Both of them were best friends and the ringleaders of the attempted depravity. The stale stench of urine was coming from the brunette on the right. The brunette on the left remained stoic and appeared to be more accepting of his fate after witnessing the deaths of his four friends. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and secured by a baby blue ribbon while his foul smelling companion on the right had close cropped brown hair.

~What to do with you two. What to do. What to do.~ The soft, airy voice taunted as it swirled in the two teen rapists' heads with malice.

"Are you a witch?" the long haired boy asked.

"Are you a d-demon?" the short haired boy stuttered.

The female glared black daggers at one boy in particular. The hatred grew exponentially for both of them with each passing moment, especially the foul smelling boy. 

"You're obviously not an angel," the long haired boy scoffed.

~Obviously not, but I can kill them without mercy, just like how you killed your mother.~

The pony tailed brunette's eyes widened in shock. "H-how-"

"Are you one of those grim reapers, then?" his friend interjected.

The question set the experiment's rage into motion. ~No, but I do know some of their secrets.~

"Like what?"

~Those I won't disclose, unlike the one you've been harboring for years now, you corpse fucking piece of shit!~

"Huh?"

The soft, airy voice the teenage wastes of nobility were used to having inside their heads grew dark, malignant, and disturbingly sensual as it sunk its merciless claws into their deepest subconscious minds, digging out their secrets for all to see.

~Both of you are abominations. _You!_ With that girly bow in your hair! You are such a hypocrite! Pretending to care about your dead mother that _you_ killed in cold blood! She never wronged you, never provoked you, and never hurt you in any way. She protected you from your insolent father, but you killed her anyway. You shouldn't wait to go to Hell to taste its flames.~

The long haired brunette's stoic demeanor vanished in favor of resentful sadness. "What would you know of loss?" The boy's brown eyes landed on a gas lamp.

~It burns. It burns like hellfire.~

The boy with the pony tail didn't know how he had done it, but somehow he managed to get the contents of the burning gas lamp all over himself and feel the burning pain of loss the creature spoke of. Perhaps she was willing it, perhaps she wasn't, but the flames grew more intense as they consumed him. His body burned, his skin began peeling back from muscles as they contracted causing him to fall to the ground in a burning heap. His tearful friend was all that remained, and his pants were once again stinking of urine after witnessing a live human roasting.

~I lied.~ The prototype's voice suddenly broke the deathly still silence in the necrophiliac's subconscious.

"A-about w-what?" the immoral brat stammered.

~I will disclose one secret about grim reapers for you. I belong to one.~

"Then, w-what does that make you?" the frightened boy stammered.

~No one. Now, take out the knife you were going to use on me.~

The brunette obeyed. "I'm sorry, miss. Please..." His hands started unbuttoning his trousers. He didn't understand why the lady in black was so arousing even after watching his friends kill themselves. Perhaps it was the way her malicious, seductive voice sliced through his brain. 

~You are not a gentleman of standing order. You are immoral, unclean, repulsive, filthy, and vile. You desecrating bastard! Remove your _self_! All of it!~

The necrophiliac teen blindly removed everything that separated him from the fairer sex. Pained tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "Miss, I'm so sorry."

~No, you're just sorry that you got caught by the wrong person.~

The boy's eyes widened as he fell to the ground. Regretful tears streamed down his face as he laid on his side bleeding out from between his legs. Horror froze in his hazel eyes as the petite made a final demand from him.

~Eat.~

xxxxxx

The lavender haired woman picked up the pieces of herself from behind the pub and made the trek back to the shop.

~This is what I get for being so small.~

She sensed something unpleasant from within the shop as she approached the front door.

~Demon.~

Another presence was with it, two actually. A contract holder and

~Red Death~

a reaper. The combination's mismatched afterglow faded as she vanished from the street into her room above Undertaker's shop. She sat quietly, daring not to move for fear of being detected by the three guests downstairs. She put her head between her knees and tried to listen to the conversation below, but drifted off into an odd slumber instead.

xxxxxx

_It was one of the rare days where the heights of spring and winter could laugh together and enjoy the illusion of freedom from the confines of the lab. The two young women giggled as they ran barefoot across plush, green grass. They collapsed into each other's arms beyond a grassy knoll in their secret place, smiling and gazing longingly into each other's blue and green eyes beneath an old willow tree._

_"Stella, I love you," the green experiment declared, blushing a pretty pink in contrast to her thick, green curls._

_"I know, Mae, and I love you, too," the other female replied, pulling her into a loving embrace. "I've missed you since they've turned us into these things. We don't see each other as much anymore."_

_"There's talk of destroying you. You're the prototype, and they think you're a threat because you're too powerful. They didn't need to fuse-"_

_The lavender haired woman placed a finger over her lover's lips. "Let's not talk of such things, Mae. Let's enjoy our illusory freedom while we can." Her finger was replaced by soft lips. Having read her lover's mind, the green Rarity opened her mouth allowing the kiss to lose its innocence. Reaching beyond a thin veil of white cotton, the winter weapon's petite hands tenderly swept over spring's ivory contours. The two experiments shared an intimate kiss as their fingers explored each other. Both women had the same obsession, but only one had a secret hunger that she couldn't bring herself to share with her lady love. Not here, not in this place._

_~Maybe, one day...when we're finally free, I'll let her in on the secret and we shall dine like queens...~_

_Icy kisses rained down upon the green haired petite's neck and down the length of her slender body, then back up again. The lavender winter took her sweet time teasing the other woman at her mercy with little bites and nibbles on perfectly molded breasts before finally getting to the pink nubs craving her attention. "Stella," the pleasured woman whimpered._

_"I know what you want, Mae," the experiment breathed. "But are you sure you want to do this?"_

_"I've done it to you."_

_"It's a two way street between us. Are you sure you want me to do it to you?"_

_"Stella, please..." The slightly younger Rarity grabbed her lover's hand and placed it between her legs while pulling her closer at the same time. "I want this. I want you. More than anything."_

_The lavender haired woman smiled and kissed her lover with unbridled passion while gently laying her on her back in the plush grass. Neither female knew where their cotton gowns were, nor did they care. All they cared about was the euphoria they were taking refuge in at that moment. The coldest winter month tasted the sweetness of spring in her mouth while enjoying the hidden treasure within her divide. The green haired woman sank her fingers into lavender tresses, feeding said woman's obsession, as her secret places were unlocked. Her gluttonous lover was unrelenting in her hunger and didn't stop until all of her lover's secrets were spilled in her name._

_Both women laid exhausted in each other's arms. "I love you, Mae," the lavender haired woman whispered._

_"Stella, promise me that if they destroy me, you'll find love again," spring weaponry pleaded._

_The lavender weapon looked at her fellow weapon in disbelief. "What are you saying, Mae? I love only_ you! _Besides, who's to say I'd be able to escape, anyway?"_

_The green haired experiment nuzzled her head into her companion's neck. "Stella, you know how powerful you are. You can escape." She paused to look the other woman in her mismatched eyes while drawing random patterns on her small breasts. "Do it for Marcus," she continued. "He'd want you to. He tried so hard to protect us. His friend, the 'pretty one', remember, let him take us away."_

_"The 'pretty one'? Yeah, I do remember Marcus defecting in his own way to care for us...and he was killed for it by his own kind..." the winter weapon trailed off._

_"Promise me you'll love again should you survive, and I'll do the same should I. Can you do that for me, please?" the spring weapon pleaded once more._

xxxxxx

While the product of eugenics bitterly slumbered upstairs, her lover talked in riddles about the 'suspicious suicides' plaguing London with the trio she sensed downstairs in the shop. The child-a noble, judging by the way he spoke-was in charge of the case. Earl, Ciel Phantomhive was what she had heard him introduce himself as when he spoke of his status. The butler with whom he was in the care of was the contractor,

~Demon~

Sebastian Michaelis. She had already sensed the red reaper before any of them since the other part of herself knew her well.

=Grell Sutcliff, why you throw yourself at Michaelis, I shall never know. My lady, though we had our moments, I am her and she is me. She holds a grudge as ice preserves the dead. Her love is my love. Her hate is my hate. We are one.=

~Red Death, I will know what you know.~

The Earl and his demon butler were at a loss at the mortician's cryptic responses to their inquiries. They had paid the price of prime laughter in exchange for his information, but the vow of protecting the experiment outweighed his duty as the Phantomhive family's informant. The silver haired man knew the demon knew more than he was letting on, but was electing to hide it from his master anyway. He had a habit of doing this just so he could get under his meal's skin for his own amusement.

"Come, Sebastian," the noble ordered. "This has been a waste of time."

The butler assisted the boy with his coat and hat. "Yes, my lord," he said, bowing with his arm crossed over his chest.

"I'll be back for more information, should the occasion arise, Undertaker," the young Earl stated gruffly. He swiped his cane from the demon's outstretched hand and marched toward the door.

"My lord," the mortician began, stopping the noble in the doorway. "Do take care of your soul. Hehehe."

The young noble glared at the smiling mortician with his uncovered blue eye. "Yes, yes, I know!" he barked. With that, he turned on his heel and exited the shop accompanied by an amused butler.

"Grell, milady, you're not going to chase after Sebastian?"

The redhead broke from her dazed thoughts. "What was that you said, Unnie?"

The silver reaper giggled into his sleeve. "My lady, you've been staring into space for several minutes. The demon and his young lord have already departed."

"Oh," the redhead replied, still in a daze. "It just felt like something was sifting through my head. I-I'm not sure." The reaper suddenly snapped out of her daze and returned to her perky self. "Well, darling, I have to go before Will beats me over the head with that rotten Death Scythe of his. Oh! That reminds me. He's been lurking around your shop a lot lately. I haven't the foggiest idea why. Toodles!"

The legend's eyes darkened with rage as the red reaper bounded out of his shop into the twilight lit streets. He locked the doors behind her as soon as she was out of sight. His anger softened when he saw the sleeping beauty curled on the floor in a fetal position, only to be exponentially reignited when he saw her condition upon closer inspection. The bruises, cuts, torn out hair, and ripped dress made his blood boil. He removed his hat and outer layers of clothing, and scooped the sleeping girl off the floor into bed. He laid beside her, wrapping the petite form in his protective embrace. The reaper placed a quick, tender kiss on the tattooed woman's lips and held her closer. "I love you so much."

*I will find who did this to you and kill them.*

=You needn't worry. They're dead already, my love.=

*You're...*

=I am her. She is me. We are one. I feel what she feels. I know what she knows. Her hate is my hate. Her love is my love. As you have claimed her, you have also claimed me. She knows what you know. I know what she doesn't. She is light. I am the unnecessary shadows hidden in the secret places that the Goddess left long forgotten. She chose you because of me. Now we are one. I love you as she does.=

*And I'll love you as I love her.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inner zealot is coming out in my OC.


	11. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts & communication =
> 
> Thanks to all who enjoy my fun little tale, it's very much appreciated.  
> Eric and Alan fans, your wait is over.  
> January/Stella refers to kinky sex as playtime. She has a hatred for the word kink which will be revealed much later in the future.  
> Enjoy!

The black haired reaper's eyebrow twitched with decades of pent up rage, his mouth was forced into a straight line to hold back the disgusted sneer he so desperately wanted to display, but he couldn't do that. As a manager, he had to set an example for his subordinates, and further fueling the fire of his stress was the intense scrutiny he was under from upper management, therefore, open displays of emotion were completely unprofessional and in poor taste. He was absolutely infuriated that the meeting would not go his way at all. He just knew it, judging by the huge pit in his stomach that grew as the minutes dragged on during the useless meeting. Upper management wanted that perverse freak of nature alive in exchange for his former mentor's death or else he, William T. Spears, would be considered a defector. In the Dispatch manager's mind, that thing made Grell Sutcliff out to be perfectly normal by comparison, which greatly disturbed him.

"Sirs," the manager formally addressed his superiors. "I must object to this proposal. Surely, you must be aware that the Empath scientists who fused this thing-"

"'It' is a Rarity, Mr. Spears. You should be aware of what she is," a male with wavy, shoulder length, gray hair corrected in a sharp tone. "Proceed, but do so with more tact."

"Yes, sir. You must be aware of the end result of the Rarity and Yurei being fused together and the threat it poses to us. Why do you want it alive and Mr. Crevan dead after all he's done for us?" 

A second high ranking reaper who looked like a broad, muscular version of the legend shook his head at the Dispatch manager, his long, black pony tail swayed back and forth from the crown of his head as he spoke. "Don't be sentimental, Spears. We are all _very_ well aware of Mr. Crevan's service, but he _is_ a deserter. He's also the most powerful of our kind, which poses a threat to us, and therefore, he must be executed."

The younger reaper was furious at his superiors' nonchalant way of handling the issue of one of their own's life. "Sir, that makes no sense!" the normally stoic reaper vehemently objected. He rose to his feet and slammed his hands on the table as if he were the one addressing his subordinates, not the other way around. "We're killing our own kind-a legend-in favor of some failed eugenics project built for a war that never happened!" He glared toxic green daggers at his bosses. "Why that _thing_ over him?"

"Sit down, Mr. Spears!" the gray haired reaper shouted. "The Rarity can get inside the subconscious, whereas Crevan cannot, which will make eradication of troublesome demons much easier for us."

"You're too nice, Hesse," the other manager stated coolly. "It's a weapon, the ultimate weapon, the Prototype. Everyone knows Rarities don't exist anymore." The gray haired manager gave his cohort a side glare full of hellish wrath as he continued his decree. "Besides, with Mr. Crevan having deserted, which is punishable by death in certain circumstances, we'll condemn him to just that simply based on his power alone."

The raven haired manager inwardly smirked. He hoped that maybe what he was about to say would help his idol. "What if I told you that he claimed it?"

"Are you serious?" the pony tailed reaper exclaimed. "We cannot have two beings that volatile with highly destructive power running around!"

"May I remind you that Rarities are born sterile and so are we, Crevan especially," the other manager chided.

"I don't give a damn if they're both sterile, Hesse, the point is they are together!" The man with the pony tail turned his attention back to the lower ranking manager. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir. I have kept a steady watch on the couple since it wound up there and never left. Indeed it was claimed by Mr. Crevan. Out of all of our kind, he is the most possessive and he will not hesitate to kill to protect his mate."

The gray haired reaper rubbed his chin in thought. "Well now, that certainly does complicate things, doesn't it, Mr. Spears?"

xxxxxx

Battered winter awakened nestled in the silver reaper's protective embrace. By force of habit, she watched the scarred flesh of his left eyelid ripple in tandem with the fluid movements of his feathered, silver eyelashes within restless dreams. Her fingers unconsciously moved to her lover's lips

~Like I did with Mae so many years ago.~

and lightly grazed over them, forever enchanted by the ever so slight upturned corners. On their own frozen accord, icy hands tenderly slid across the reaper's smooth, pale cheek, coming to rest on his jawline. She watched his eyes flutter about in REM a moment longer, feeling an intense warmness because she knew he was dreaming of her. With that in mind, she cupped the legendary beauty's face in her delicate, bloodied hands, and softly pressed her lips to his, subtly licking and biting his bottom lip before pulling away with crimson staining her porcelain cheeks.

"Mornin', Lovely," mumbled a sleepy mortician.

"It's not morning yet."

The mortician cracked open an eye. "So it isn't." He scrutinized his mate's torn dress and disheveled appearance with sympathetic eyes. "Oh, my Lovely," he sighed. "Let's get you cleaned up." He kissed her forehead, earning a giddy laugh from the lady. That little sentence, ever since that day, has always had a way of making her feel giddy and he knew it. "You're a peculiar one, Lovely, but that's what I love about you."

"I know," the female blushed and nuzzled her face into the reaper's hair. "Your hair is so soft, Adrian, I could use it as a blanket."

"You have." A knowing grin spread over the silver haired man's face. "It was awkward, yet endearing, but most of all beautiful. You looked so precious."

"I didn't know I did that. I'm glad your hair is as long as it is and I'm as small as I am or I could have hurt you if I had a nightmare." The Rarity looked at her lover with a twinge of guilt in her glowing eyes.

"No, you were actually quite peaceful," he replied with a tender kiss. "Your eyes are glowing."

"So are yours."

"Come, Lovely, let's get you cleaned up." He smiled as she blushed at those seven little words.

xxxxxx

The experiment shed her torn dress and stepped into the bath, allowing the searing heat of the water to penetrate her skin. She gradually submerged into the hot water until the only visible part of her on the surface was tangled lavender swirls. The angry contrast watched from below as dried blood mingled with the lavender tendrils floating overhead.

~I am you.~

=I am you.=

~You are me.~

=You are me.=

~We are one.~

=We are one.=

~Does he love you?~

=Just as he loves you?=

~Does he love _me_ ?~

=He will _always_ love you.=

~And if loves me, but stops loving you?~

=If he loves you, he loves me. If he stops loving you, he stops loving me. The bond between us and him will be severed.=

The familiar sensation of long nails gently tugging lavender strands roused the tattooed petite from her thoughts. She rose from beneath the surface of the considerably cooler water as fair hair stuck to fair skin in wet clumps. The soft glow of her eyes became more intense each time the mortician's nails scratched the surface of her skin. A fan of lavender spread over most of the petite form still submerged in the water, bobbing and swirling at each jolt of pleasure she partook in her lover's touch. "Mmmm...Adrian..." The experiment bit her lip to keep from crying out when the reaper decided to lick the side of her neck in his tantalizingly slow way he so often tortured her with when he decided it was playtime. The delightful warmth flooded her senses with the reaper's sensual assault on her flesh. "Oh Goddess, Adrian. I-I..."

"You what, Lovely?" the reaper inquired mischievously. "Hm." Mirth and lust danced in his acidic eyes as he turned the woman around to face him. "What do you want, Lovely?"

"You," the female breathed. "Make love to me." Her mismatched eyes shone like bright stars in the night sky as the mortician's hypnotic eyes met hers.

"Perhaps I can arrange that," he responded in a low, velvet voice as dark as the backdrop surrounding her glowing irises. The lusty glow intensified in the reaper's eyes as he grinned. "You know I'm always more than happy to oblige, milady. Hehehe." For a moment the pair stared into each other's illuminated eyes when the reaper finally captured the experimental beauty's lips in a hungry, lust fueled kiss. "Anytime, Lovely," he whispered. "Anything for you."

xxxxxx

"Agents Slingby and Humphries, you will also be tasked with finding 'The Prototype' along with Agents Sutcliff and Knox," the black haired reaper ordered. "I have met with upper management, and much to my dismay, they have ordered us to bring it back alive. Additionally, we are to bring back Undertaker to be tried and sentenced to death."

"Will!" The flamboyant redhead's eyes were wide with shock. "This-this..." She stamped her stiletto boot on the ground indignantly. "But, why? You must be joking! I simply cannot believe-"

"Sutcliff!" The stone faced manager snapped. "I _do not_ joke! Furthermore, you will refrain from childish outbursts or I will demote you. Do I make myself clear?"

The feminine reaper crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her boss. The unspoken bond between the two since that day was all the answer he needed, so he continued the debriefing. "Each of you has a file containing the mission we are undertaking. This is highly classified and to be discussed with no one save for ourselves. I will be making necessary reports to upper management as required. Proceed with extreme caution. Undertaker has claimed this science project he calls a woman as his mate. Does anyone have any questions before we begin our new assignment?"

A tall, rugged blond with cornrows braided on one side of his head skimmed through his file. "Aye, Mr. Spears, the files say we're supposed to work alone. Suppose Alan has an attack while he's on the field?"

"I'll make an exception for the two of you to remain paired on account of his health. Does that relieve your concern, Mr. Slingby? And you, Mr. Humphries?"

"Aye, that it does. Thank ya, Mr. Spears."

"Yes, sir, thank you," the Thorn infected reaper chimed in.

The emotionless manager gave a curt nod in response, then turned his attention to the red reaper and her trainee. His eyebrow twitched in irritation at the look on her face. The look of anger, disbelief, and betrayal glared at him from her toxic, catlike eyes. The irritated man swallowed the urge to kill the redhead as he pushed his glasses up with his Death Scythe. "Since Knox is still a trainee, the two of you will have to remain paired, Mr. Sutcliff. Are there any further questions?"

Before the effeminate reaper could go off on another fruitless tangent about being addressed improperly, her subordinate spoke up. "Spears-senpai, if we need to know something that's not in the file, what do we do?"

"Ask me," the manager replied coldly. "Or if I'm unavailable, ask Mr. Sutcliff. _He_ was also present."

The young blond looked at his red superior in disbelief. "S-senpai?"

"I wanted no part of this," the red reaper growled. "You _knew_ I was roped into it against my will. Sir!" Tears of pent up emotional trauma and regret were on the verge of spilling. "It was either _that_ or termination and banishment to a place I will _not_ mention in front of anyone." She could no longer hold back the past emotional pain, so she turned on her heel and stalked off to her office where she could let it flow freely from her toxic green eyes. Red Death didn't care about being formally dismissed by the boss, but she did care about looking weak in front of her fellow reapers. She already had a reputation for being unstable, and she wasn't about to add being a crybaby on top of it. She much rather preferred being seen as a bloodthirsty, homicidal maniac over being seen as a sobbing weakling. Truthfully, she preferred to be seen as neither of the two, but as the passionate lady she is. Sure, she gave in to homicidal rages at times, and sure she could tear apart certain people with her bare hands, but she had feelings, too. Red Death wasn't just all about blood, men, and makeup.

A soft knock accompanied by a concerned trainee's voice interrupted Grell's sobbing. "Senpai?"

"What is it, Ronnie?" the redhead sniffled. She retrieved a compact from a desk drawer and quickly began fixing her makeup.

"I don't think what they're telling us to do is right," the dual colored reaper said in an uncharacteristically somber tone.

"Neither do I, Ronnie," the feminine reaper sighed.

"I'm surprised to see Spears-senpai willingly go along with anything that would..." The two toned reaper paused to gather his thoughts. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm surprised that he's ok with letting 'Taker die. He fucking worships 'Taker, senpai! I'm willing to bet that he probably carries around something of his everywhere he goes and doesn't tell anyone, or that he has some secret shrine to him in his apartment."

"Worship is too strong of a word, dear," the reaper in red pointed out. "But it is true that Willy does idolize that gorgeous, old loon quite a bit, however, he despises January a lot more than he idolizes him."

"January?" The blond reaper made a sour face expressing his confusion.

"Yes, Ronnie, that's _her_ name. 'The Prototype' is a female, not an it; a woman, not an object as the files claim." The red reaper tapped the file folder with the blunt end of an eyeliner pencil to add emphasis. "There's something else you won't find in there." She bit her lip to hold back tears.

"What's that, senpai?" The young reaper studied his superior with curious concern.

"I bore witness to the most humiliating death anyone could ever be dealt, and to top it off, I had to reap the poor girl. Her name was May and she was January's lover." Red Death checked her makeup one last time. "I only worked collections. I didn't do anything more while all that hideous experimentation was going on, so don't ask."

"Ok, senpai," the younger complied. "So, when you say 'lover', are you saying she and that other lady were the same as how she is with 'Taker?"

Red Death nodded. "It was the real thing between the two women. Look, I normally don't care when people get killed, but this is wrong. I don't give a shit about protocol. I'm not letting Unnie die for no reason, and I'm not going to let that poor girl get dragged back here to be tortured and used like she has been her whole life."

"I'm with ya, senpai. Say, I think I know why you're so bent on helping this girl," the two tone haired reaper realized. "I'll keep it to myself though."

"Perceptive as always, Knox," the redhead grumbled.

xxxxxx

A new black dress was waiting for the experiment when she woke up the following afternoon. It was a close copy of her old one, except this new one was of superior quality and matched all of her specifications right down to the hint of red lace trim, single layer of skirting, and high collar without all the frills and poufy sleeves of her old dress. The fabric was black brocade-something she always adored, but could never have-and thick enough to where she could easily get away with forgoing the stays she despised. It's not like she had enough up top to necessitate the use for them anyway, but they were fun for playtime with the mortician, especially when she tied him up and left him in the coffin for an hour or two. The dress was simple, elegant, and had its own hidden exoticism.

~He knows...Somehow, he always knows.~

The petite gathered the dress and absconded to the bathroom, stopping in front of the vanity to admire her reflection. Nothing had changed since the fruition of the eugenics project except for her eyes, other than that, all outward appearances were as they should be. Her mind was what changed the most as she felt her power growing to a phenomenally higher level. Her love for the silver haired mortician that took her in that night had only grown stronger and continued to do so each day. Instinctively, her small fingers traced the scar on her neck from the night he claimed her. The scar only became more noticeable each time he revisited that favorite spot of his. A wellspring of warmth flooded her body and the glow of her eyes became bright against the darkness they rested in. She smiled to herself as she got dressed for the day, not noticing a certain dressmaker had been watching her from the shadows.

"My, my, you certainly are a lovely one," a familiar giggle echoed from the shadows of the dimly lit bathroom.

Two strong arms snatched the female from her spot in front of the mirror in a silver and black blur. She found herself in the mortician's lap before she could regain her senses. "You ass! You took my spot!" she playfully protested.

The mortician giggled and wrapped his long arms tighter around his lover's waist. She shifted positions so she could look him in the eye. "Your eyes truly are enchanting, Stella." The Rarity blushed as he began braiding a lock of her hair. To him, she was a goddess and was deserving of that kind of veneration. Today, he felt like it should be an elegant day for his lady love, so he delicately wove spider lilies he seemingly pulled out of nowhere into the lavender crown atop her head. She looked regal and intimidating, which made the reaper's mind drift to a certain unsated hunger. "How do you like it, my lady?" he asked as he turned her forward to admire her reflection. A choked moan was barely suppressed when ebony talons grazed the experiment's neck, resulting in her grinding her backside against the mortician. "Now, now, Lovely, you know it's not nice to tease," he chided in his seductive, velvet voice. 

"Who's teasing who?" the female whispered, grabbing the thin cord of silver between her fingers to use as leverage in her devious plan. She glanced at the work of art the legend bestowed upon her and smiled. "It's beautiful," she complimented with devious glowing eyes. Delicate fingers twirled the woven, silver silk around until her lips brushed against her lover's. "You always make me beautiful, Adrian." 

"I can't make you into something you already are, Stella. I'm but a humble mortician, and you are my Lovely who just happens to appreciate my work." He kissed her with tender passion.

"I really love this dress, too. It's a perfect fit and everything I've wished my dresses to be. Wherever did you find an item such as this, my love?" the experiment inquired with excited light emanating from her blue and green orbs.

The reaper's trademark grin spread across his face. "Hehehe. Those measurements I took of you weren't just for your own custom coffin, my dear." He pulled the small woman closer to him, trailing the length of her neck with a single black talon. Despite the thicker fabric, she could still feel the all too familiar delightful sensation. "I made it for you, my lovely lady."

Winter smiled down at the legend. "You remembered all my rants about female trappings! Thank you so much, Adrian! I lo-"

The mortician cut her off with a hungry kiss. The prototype reciprocated, parting her lips to deepen the kiss. She raked her fingers through his silver mane, moaning into the kiss as she indulged in her obsession. The reaper growled when he heard his treasured hat hit the floor, which earned him a sharp bite on the tongue to keep him in line. The coppery sweet taste of blood allowed her to win dominance over him, which only made him hungrier for her.

*What is it that keeps her from tearing down that one wall?*

The icy weapon wrapped her arms around the silver legend, allowing them to get lost in the waterfall of silver tumbling down his back while he made a home for his fingers in her lavender tresses. With his arm secured around the petite's waist, he pulled her tightly against him in their kiss that they reserved only for themselves. When they finally broke apart, staring into each other's glowing eyes with eerie grins on their faces, both of them spoke with their eyes words their mouths need not say.

~You are my greatest gift.~

*And you are mine.*

"Adrian?"

"Hm."

"Don't stop doing my hair. You always make me so beautiful." The weaponized hybrid looked at her reaper with loving light in her sky and grass eyes.

"Hehe. Anything for you, Lovely," he replied with a gentle kiss.

xxxxxx

Four reapers were on a stakeout in rotating shifts. Right now, it was shift change. A tall Scotsman and his not so secret, terminally ill, petite lover were about to head back to Dispatch in place of a flamboyant redhead and her junior officer, a blond and black haired young man flying in on a lawnmower from a portal he created to the mortal realm. The young trainee harbored a fantasy to take his senpai out on a hot date of roof surfing on his lawnmower, but he knew it was a pipe dream, so he kept it to himself. A reaper can dream, can't he?

"Hi, Grell, Ron," the mousy haired reaper greeted. "It's nice to see that you're all here on time. Not to be rude or anything, but I really don't feel like doing any overtime today."

"Yeah, yeah," the lawnmower wielder said casually, clapping a hand on the shorter reaper's back. "We understand with the Thorns and all, so ya better get home."

The red clad reaper adjusted the chainsaw over her shoulder. "Ronnie and I went over the files before we left," she stated without her usual dramatic flair. She took the chainsaw off her shoulder and none too gently allowed the tip of the blade to rest on the tiled roof. As always when she meant business, she flicked her wrist slightly, rotating the machine in case anyone wanted to give her reason to fly into a homicidal rage. She leaned on her chainsaw slightly and flipped her red hair over her shoulder with a menacing grin. The other three reapers fell silent at the red reaper's too casual pose and menacing grin. She was _pissed_ with a capital pissed, and only her subordinate knew why. Nevertheless, no one there wanted to be on the business end of her Death Scythe. "As William said in our little debriefing, I had the great displeasure of having to work collections during that whole...event," the redhead dripped venom into each word as they spilled from her mouth. "Does anyone have any questions?"

The tall man with a hacksaw looked deep in thought for a moment, then questioned his red peer about why Undertaker would take the experiment as a mate, to which the reply was a huffy rant about how Undertaker's personal life was none of his business. While the redhead was chastising the Scotsman for prying into the mortician's personal affairs, the Thorn infected reaper informed his blond coworker of six corpses that were brought into the morgue earlier that day.

The redhead crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the tiled roof. "Does anyone have any relevant questions? If not, you can go home." Receiving no response, she dismissed the day shift and waited until their portal home was completely sealed before she began to formulate her plan.

"It took them long enough, senpai," the younger said, sighing in relief.

"I know. They had no business digging into Undertaker's personal life like that! How rude!" the feminine reaper snapped.

"Whoa! Calm down, Grell-senpai, I'm on your side, remember." The dual colored man held his hands up in surrender. "Al told me that he saw six bodies get delivered to 'Taker's shop today."

"Together or separate?" asked an intrigued red reaper.

"Together. All of them were teenage boys, all of them were 'suspicious suicides', which means January is the one manipulating the deaths. What do we do, senpai?"

"First, we warn Unnie of upper management's plans. Then, we'll pretend we didn't see anything. You're good at playing dumb, aren't you?" Red Death's razor sharp grin was fully exposed and eerily beautiful in its cunning intimidation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: corsets are also known as "stays"


	12. Bodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reads. It's much appreciated.
> 
> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
> 
> Mentions of necrophilia are contained within this chapter as well as cannibalism. Not for the squeamish. ***You have been warned.***  
> Enjoy!

The weapon's cynical laughter filled the air as she listened to the mortician chastise the half dozen teenage guests in the morgue. A knowing glow lit up her eyes as more laughter pealed out of her. The silver haired man was glad that she was no longer afraid of watching him work. In fact, she looked forward to it if it meant being by his side, unless it was one of the several holy days she was obligated to observe. He admired her conviction, even if it cost precious time spent with her. Nevertheless, he was still happy that she was there to keep him company while he worked. Corpses don't talk back, she does; the dead don't _really_ appreciate his artistry, she does, and she shows it, too.

*It's her enchanting eyes. Heehee.*

Three of the rude guests looked as though they had flung themselves into a pit of wild dogs. Various extremities were dismembered, including a foot still housed in its shoe. Those could easily be reattached. Chunks of flesh had been eaten clean off down to the bone in many places. Not even the unparalleled skill of the silver haired mortician could repair the gaping holes left behind from the carnage. This was going to be the first closed casket funeral he's had to prepare in a very long time aside from those of the Catholic faith. The lack of defensive wounds on the triplets was troublesome as it made the gashes that much more difficult to repair, meaning there was more flesh missing compared to someone who would've tried to defend themselves and at least salvage some parts of their body. The strangest thing about the young guests was the mixture of regret, sadness, guilt, and relief frozen on their mangled faces. 

*Closed casket for sure. I almost feel sorry for their parents...almost. Teeheehee!*

~Don't feel sorry for any of them or their family. Those who needlessly slaughter the sacred animal of the Goddess in their greedy quest for power as an act of childish rebellion deserve no mercy.~

=Their deaths were merciful, altruistic brutality. To destroy that which is sacred to Her interferes with necessary shadows and negates the meaning of One.=

The mortician stopped what he was doing as an uneasy silence enveloped the room. He slowly turned and faced his lover with a raised eyebrow beneath silver bangs and tilted his head to the side, letting a tiny sliver of green glow peek out from underneath. The tips of his high pony tail were within millimeters of making contact with the filthy guest he was tasked with cleaning up.

"You didn't think _both_ of us could reach you at the same time, did you?" the tattooed project realized with a sigh. She perused one of the many shelves lining the walls in the morgue until a jar containing a disembodied heart caught her eye as well as one on a higher shelf containing a brain. "I want those," she demanded of her lover. He was about to tease her with them, but seeing the intimidating glow blaze through her eyes, he thought better of it and handed her the jars. "That's what I thought. A~dri~an. You tease me enough for being so small. I didn't like it when you stuffed me in the coffin that one time. I have to breathe, you know." She cradled the jars to her breast and hopped up on an exam table with relatively little effort, ignoring her lover's giggling about how it was her idea to see what it felt like to sleep in a coffin, and he didn't know at the time that she needed to breathe. He's so used to death, and death doesn't breathe. "Shut up, you madman. I'll get you back," she said as her tone grew softer the longer she studied the jars of parts. The said madman looked on in fascination as the experiment nuzzled the containers, whispering a soft prayer to the Goddess and telling her lover in the next world, Mae, that she kept her promise and found love again, and it was "the pretty one", Marcus' friend. Then, she spoke in an ancient, and most likely dead language, in prayer to the Goddess. She hugged the jars ever tighter to her person, a warm glow emitted from emerald and sapphire eyes and a soft smile played on equally soft lips. "I love you, Mae," the lavender winter whispered as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

The legend wasn't sure how to react or what brought on her sudden shift in mood. He hadn't seen quite a moving scene such as the one he had just witnessed. It was morbidly beautiful in all of its love wrapped in the beauty of death.

*She is a peculiar one.*

When his mate first arrived at his shop, she was a trembling mess with a faulty memory. She wouldn't have dared to peek inside any of the plethora of disembodied organs floating in their glass houses, let alone have an intimate religious experience with not one, but two of them. He thought back to the day he and Marcus Jones had encountered the lavender haired Rarity and her little green haired friend, and eventual lover, the day their realm was destroyed. Both he and Jones defected in their own ways. Neither reaper continued to be involved with the wanton slaughter of innocent people. Jones took the two Rarities in and raised them as his own in secret while continuing his duties. He wanted to officially retire so he could take the girls to the mortal realm and raise them in seclusion in order to avoid getting caught by the authorities. Unfortunately, that hope was cut short. Somehow, he was discovered, and killed in front of the two girls he was so desperately trying to protect. He was never the type to yell at anyone for any reason, least of all children, but that day was the only time he ever yelled at anyone. Fury and fear-a look neither Rarity ever forgot-flashed in his acidic eyes as he yelled at the girls to run and hide. The legend, on the other hand, was just tired of the reaping, fighting, and constant hero worship. He despised it and was ready to retire at a moment's notice. The day the reapers were ordered to destroy the Empaths was the last straw. He was going to retire soon enough anyway, but when Jones approached him with the orphaned Rarities, he felt sick; he was done. In good faith, he gave an order to cease hostilities, announced his (unofficial) retirement from that very moment forward and simply walked away, leaving the reapers in the Empath's realm gaping after him in awe. He truly was flawlessly beautiful without the glasses, in looks and in combat, which was proven when he was the only one who emerged alive from the Council chambers with his Death Scythe and what was sure to become marred flesh later on. He is Legendary Death and he will not part with his beloved scythe.

The silver reaper awaited winter's first move. Seeing that she was still lost in her own world, he decided it was probably a prudent idea to clean some of the caked on gore off of his hands. His shuffling and humming of eerie melodies that no one else knew nor cared to know alerted the female to another's existence in the room. "Adrian, come here," she said sweetly, beckoning the tall man toward her. The enamored reaper obeyed. He took his place next to the tattooed hybrid on the exam table, and with arms encircling her waist, he pulled her on his lap. She leaned into his embrace as he nuzzled his cheek on her head. "There's a reason why you can hear us," the lavender lady began. "And that we can hear you in silence."

The reaper peered over the experiment's shoulder, curiosity aglow in his stunning green eyes. "And why would that be, Lovely?" An equally curious grin spread across his scarred face as he held her closer.

The Rarity slid her delicate fingers over her lover's hands in the smooth, gentle way that made his heart race, and laced her fingers through his. "Your race is possessive and cleave to a single mate, however, mine is not. Empaths are polyamorous, but we do have a certain person we prefer over others, and that's who we choose to form a psychic bond with." The female removed a hand from her reaper's grasp and touched each of their heads to illustrate her point. "Amongst normal Emapths, that particular mate is the one with whom a family is started, but with us Rarities it's radically different as we are born sterile, and thus, are afforded more freedoms. We are free to link with any being of any gender, or we can abstain if we wish. Social laws still technically apply to us, but we don't follow them for obvious reasons. All Empaths, including Rarities, love with their hearts and minds. You only love with your heart." She tapped the jar with the heart in it. "To me, the heart is the mind is the heart." A small finger moved back and forth between each organ with its corresponding word as she spoke.

"Has anyone ever chosen a mate outside of your race?" the mortician inquired with the curious grin ever present on his face.

"Long ago, a Rarity left our realm to be with the demon she claimed as her own. Now, I choose you, a reaper. That makes me the second to choose a mate outside my race, and the first to move on after the severance of my previous bond." A sad glow illuminated the Rarity's eyes in remembrance of her first love. "Do you have a better understanding on why we can talk without speaking? I have claimed you in the way of my people." The mortician merely nodded with the ever present curious grin on his face. "Good. I'm glad." She tugged the silver cord behind the reaper's ear and stole a kiss as gentle as the touches that made his heart race.

xxxxxx

The last body had been autopsied and prettied up thanks to the female's assistance. For someone not ensnared by the social norms of women, she was quite adept with cosmetics. The mortician, however, took care of the dirty work with his usual brand of efficiency and care. His curiosity and amusement were at an all time high, especially with the short haired brunette and the triplets' corpses. The brunette was one of the more amusing specimens he had the pleasure of reassembling in years. The man couldn't stop laughing as he put him back together again.

*She really did a number on this one.*

=He was inside the dead. He is dead inside.=

~Piece of shit necrophiliac deserved what he got. Death is beautiful, but the dead should not be desecrated in such a way. They will come back as vengeful spirits with no memories rendering their efforts for revenge fruitless. One should never defile a body.~

The mortician raised his eyebrow at the cacophony of his lover's thoughts within his mind. Was that why he had a false reputation of committing the deplorable act of necrophilia? Some noble brat no one would ever suspect was the real culprit all along. It's easier to pass the rumors off on the creepy old mortician who just happens to genuinely love his job. He would never _ever_ dream of doing such a vile thing to one of his guests, even if it was his worst enemy. No wonder his lady love saved the fiercest of her fury for the noble necrophiliac. The last fellow who had severed himself was punished for merely accusing him of such falsehoods. This young man he prettied up actually did the deed which fueled the gossip and threw _him_ to the wolves. The little shit's secrets were exposed by the wrong person, and it was her, that wrong person, who made him remove himself and eat it. A macabre metaphor of the boy's actions and their effects on the mortician. The bastard deserved what he got.

As for the triplets who appeared to have been mauled by a pack of wild dogs; something was awfully askew about the wounds. The closer the mortician looked, the more his curiosity was piqued. He carefully studied the bite marks on each boy from all angles, and even with his poor vision it was painfully obvious that the bites were the work of humans, not dogs. The boys cannibalized themselves and each other...willingly, which explains the lack of defensive wounds. The expressions on their faces had the hallmark signs he'd seen in her work except one thing: fear. 

*That's what she meant by 'merciful, altruistic brutality' and sacred animals. It's a revenge for animal sacrifice to her deity where none is required and for the wrong reasons. Blasphemy in _any_ religion.*

"Self sacrifice requires no fear. Hehehe. My Lovely hates people who destroy those things which are sacred to her. That's what they get for incurring her wrath," the mortician muttered to himself. "How very interesting that she pulled this off under the pretense of a feral dog attack. My Lovely is peculiar indeed." He giggled as he committed the triplets' corpses to the long list of the most interesting and mysterious circumstances he's been amused by to his long memory. Somehow he knew. He always knew. Then, he began to wonder if the bodies were in this state because he knew what she was capable of, and because he knew the Queen's Guard Dog was on the case. Furthermore, he wondered if she knew if he'd be the one to end up with the bodies instead of the Yard. But, the lingering question of disguising a most brutal death as a dog attack burrowed deeper into his psyche like a parasite to its host. To go that far to avenge for blasphemy? He put the thought aside for now. He knew his mate had her reasons. He remembered the darkness of her aura and the malicious rage burning in her bejeweled eyes when she spoke of the ginger triplets. While others would be terrified, the silver haired reaper sympathized and loved her even more. 

"Adrian," frozen winter spoke softly. "Red Death is here and she brings another."

"Ah, that would be my dear, Grell Sutcliff," the mortician confirmed without turning around. He closed the lid on the last coffin and wheeled it to a storage area. "As for the other, I'm not sure who it could be. Perhaps she brought her apprentice? I do hope she isn't stuck with that miserable bloke, Willy, again." He tapped his nail on his chin. "I never did like him. He's too uptight, and he worships the ground I walk on. How pathetic! Hehehehe!"

A semi feminine voice calling for Undertaker echoed into the morgue from the front of the shop. The panic stricken female vanished into the shadows, keeping her mate in close proximity to her invisible form. She did not wish to part from him given the current circumstances.

~Do they know?~

*I don't know, but we'll find out. Won't we, Lovely?*

=You are me. Red Death is nothing to be feared. I have seen the depths of her depravity, but she has her limits. She lacks the love she so freely gives, but never receives in return. She is proud. She is power. She is passion. But she feels very deeply, and a part of you reminds her of herself. She will never admit it to you or anyone. Do not fear her. The other, I do not know him, but he is close to her. I am you. We are one.=

The silver haired mortician decided to creep the two reapers out that had entered his shop. It was only fair, and he was addicted to amusement on this particular day. With inhuman speed he popped up behind the redhead and her associate. Slowly, silently, he rose to his full height with his trademark grin glued to his face "You must be here for your coffin fitting, yeeeeessssss? Heheheehe."

xxxxxx

The irate manager slammed his fist on his desk. "What do you mean that you couldn't collect the six souls? They were either there or they weren't!" He sat back down in his chair and rubbed his temples. "Do you have any idea how much overtime you're causing me?"

"S-sir," the young blond haired reaper stammered. "That's just it. The souls _are_ there, b-but I-I can't get to them. The records refuse to leave the body! The souls can't be reaped! I've never seen anything like it. No one taught us about this in the Academy...Sir." The blond handed over the files of neatly stacked and completed paperwork with a slight bow. "Here is the paperwork. You will find it completed in full detail as required, sir. I-is there anything else I-I should d-do?"

The stone faced reaper skimmed through the paperwork with narrowed eyes. "It appears to be satisfactory. I'll be handling this issue from this point forward. You are dismissed," he ordered, glaring at the young man over his steel framed glasses.

The subordinate bowed and scurried out of his fearsome boss' office, glancing over his shoulder just enough to catch him going over distinct parts of each document with a black marker. The poor reaper had no idea that he just made life more complicated for a certain couple, but luckily for him, he knew how to think on his feet better than almost any other reaper in his generation. This was not what he signed up for, however. When he killed himself as a human, he expected to just die and rot in the ground forever, not to become this nearsighted, scythe wielding killer. He knew reapers could only die from a fatal blow by a Death Scythe, but he was too much of a pathetic coward to kill himself a second time. He still remembered the legends of Yurei from his human life. In fact, he still remembered _all_ of his human life. He wanted out; out from under his tyrant boss, out from under the stress, out from under the rules, out of the realm. He wanted true death; peace, freedom, eternal slumber. He needed to find her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Catholic funerals consist of a separate viewing a few days before the actual funeral service called a "Rosary." People acquainted with the deceased are welcome to offer their condolences. It's usually held at the funeral home (for obvious reasons) chapel for a few days. The actual service is held a few days later at the deceased's church. It is closed casket.


	13. Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
> 
> Thanks for reading my fun story. Yay! *waves*  
> Suicide via mind control contained within. References to past childhood sexual abuse mentioned. **You have been warned.**  
> Enjoy!

"'Taker, get her to stop!" the dual colored reaper choked out from his place on the wall.

~Who are you?~

"Senpai!" the young man choked as his superior stood frozen in place with her own chainsaw drawn to her throat, ready to slice off her head at any second. "Please? Someone tell her we're not here to kill her! Please!" The reaper's legs flailed about in a vain attempt to free himself, but even his superior strength was no match for the experiment's power. With a single thought, the petite with the glaring black pits could crush every bone in the young man's body to dust if she wanted to.

~Don't ignore me.~

The soft, airy voice swirled in the the pinned reaper's head demanding answers. He looked down at the girl, tears pricking the corners of his gold and green eyes. "Ronald Knox!" The pressure on his throat increased. "My name is Ronald Knox. Grell Sutcliff i-is m-my s-senpai. We're not here to hurt you or 'Taker! I don't even know you!" Pained tears were rolling down the young reaper's face from the crushing force being applied to his throat. He almost swore he could hear bones breaking in his neck under the petite's power.

~Why are you here?~

"We were ordered to spy on you," he answered truthfully in a choked voice. "But by associating di-" The crushing pressure cut the reaper off mid sentence.

Meanwhile, another part of herself was interrogating the red reaper.

=Red Death, _we_ do not know him, but _I_ know you. She remembers your deed. I am her and she is me. We must know if the other seeks our demise. What have you come for?=

The red reaper's chainsaw was at the ready, inches within decapitating her. "We came to warn you and Undertaker that William is on to both of you. He knows that you're his mate. He sent Ronnie and I to spy on you guys at night and two other reapers to spy on you during the day. Eric and Alan-the other two-won't have much sympathy for the two of you. Ronnie and I think what they're planning is wrong, and that's why we came here to warn you."

=Is there more you aren't telling us?=

"The orders are from upper management. They want you alive in exchange for Undertaker's death."

"What!" the mortician exclaimed.

"They said you're a threat as long as January is around, Unnie," the redhead whined. "They're choosing her over you because she can 'get in people's minds.' They obviously intend to use her as a weapon, and they want you out of the way because you're too powerful. Two beings with immense destructive power bonded together pose too much of a threat, so upper management is using your desertion as an excuse to invoke the death penalty. They don't care about the eons of service you gave to Dispatch, nor do they care about January's well being. They call her an 'it' in the files we were given, Unnie! You know better than anyone that she's a woman!"

"Yeah, Spears-senpai called you a failed science project, Miss January," the young reaper rasped through the pressure bearing down on his throat. "He's an asshole, and he's full of shit. He wouldn't know a real woman if she bonked him on the head. Ask Grell-senpai." He squirmed in an effort to point at the redhead. "I know why senpai is hell bent on helping you and 'Taker and I agree with her reasons. Out of respect for her, I'm gonna keep quiet. I don't feel like pissing out of my nose for the rest of my life."

The female probed both reaper's minds, searching for unspoken truths. Upon finding no hidden deception lurking within either one, her eyes returned to their new normal. "Grell, you and your apprentice speak the truth. We shall withdraw. Under the current circumstances, please understand my actions and accept my apologies." The lavender haired woman humbly bowed her head. "I'm not used to others referring to me as anything other than an object. Thank you both for properly acknowledging me." She closed her eyes, allowing her thoughts to relinquish their control over the two active reapers. The younger reaper dropped to the floor with a thud and the red reaper's Death Scythe vanished on its own. The mortician protectively embraced his mate, their severe height difference obvious to the others in the room.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but is everyone from your race as small as you are?" the two toned reaper asked as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yes, all of us are naturally short, but we do have varying body types," the Rarity replied with a pointed look.

"I meant no offense. It's just that you and 'Taker look so adorable together."

An awkward silence filled the air after the young man's tactless "compliment" was paid until a loud cry was heard from outside the front door. The lawnmower wielder perked up in recognition. "Senpai, I recognize that voice. It's Brian Jones! He was in my graduating class at the Academy."

"Why would he be here?" the redhead curiously inquired.

"I don't know. He was always really quiet and withdrawn. He never talked to anyone. It's like he didn't want to be there. It's too bad 'cause he's a natural at his job. He's a fuckin' genius, too! Hey, 'Taker, should we let him in? He's not on the case with us or anything."

"Hehehe. Why not?" the mortician replied with a sinister grin.

xxxxxx

An emergency meeting was called to order with upper management that night. The stoic reaper anxiously waited for the two highest ranking managers to enter the conference room, unaware of the sweat gathering on his brow while he compulsively thumbed through his paperwork, making triple sure that the young blond reaper's name was redacted from the reports. The young field agent needn't be involved in this highly classified case. Despite his excellent career in the Academy, something about the boy did not sit right with the manager. The heavy double doors finally opened, revealing the two managers that had assigned the special case.

"Sirs," the short haired manager stood and respectfully greeted with a bow.

"Spears," the gray haired reaper huffed as he sat across from his subordinate.

"Good evening, Mr. Spears," the black pony tailed reaper greeted politely, seating himself beside his colleague. "What is the big emergency, hm?"

The short haired reaper slid the report across the table. "I have reason to believe 'The Prototype' has fully merged."

The gray haired reaper scowled at the report, then passed it to his comanager who raised a thin black eyebrow. "Mr. Spears, if the Cinematic Records refuse to leave the body-" the gray haired man began gruffly.

"Oh, come now," interjected the other. "The other suicides were able to be reaped, but these weren't. Everyone knows Yurei are soulless. No soul, no reap."

The gray haired manager glared back and forth between the two black haired men. "So, _you're_ telling _me_ that the project is _finally_ a success?" he sharply whispered to his pony tailed colleague.

"It would seem so."

"It took long enough," the gray haired reaper replied sarcastically.

The lower ranking manager cleared his throat. "Sirs, what is this all about?" he demanded.

The black haired senior smiled slyly. "Mr. Spears, you should know, you were there. You oversaw the whole thing."

"Correct, however, I only oversaw collections and occasionally the scientists when they required babysitting," the manager lied. He oversaw much more than that, but he wasn't about to let a certain other manager in on the secret.

"Well now, according to your reports, it appears the two beings were coexisting independently within 'The Prototype's' body, with the Ikiryo stepping in at the final stages of the victim's suicide," the other added.

"Which is why the souls were still able to be reaped," William mused. "Now that-"

"Now that 'The Prototype' has become what 'we' engineered her to be-two complete beings merged into one-any suicides influenced by her will have souls that cannot be collected," the gray haired manager cut in sharply.

"That's because Yurei, specifically Ikiryo, have no souls. When 'The Prototype' gets inside the heads of the victims, their records are too corrupted to leave the body and move on to our world. We still don't know what happens to the records as time passes. It's too soon to tell." The black haired man's eyes flashed in sudden warning. "You'll recognize 'The Prototype by its eyes, Spears. They still glow that mismatched blue and green at rest and turn pitch black at full power, however, the whites of its eyes at rest have turned black. It can vanish into thin air and traverse great distances. Luckily, it can't phase between realms. Its power is great enough to control multiple people and kill with a single thought if it pleases. We used the oldest Ikiryo known when we built 'The Prototype', and it is lethal."

"I still think it should be destroyed, sirs," the stoic manager offered. "If it's as lethal a weapon as you say it is, then it's the one that poses the greatest threat to us. I firmly believe it will kill to protect Mr. Crevan without any consideration for his feelings."

"Spears, you're being sentimental again," the pony tailed reaper scolded. "We know how you...hmm _feel_ about Mr. Crevan." The male quietly snickered under his breath. "I understand that he was your former mentor, but he's a deserter and must be treated accordingly. Besides, what makes you think Crevan wouldn't do the same for that little oddity, hm?"

"He's committed no crimes in the mortal realm!" the underling protested.

"Spears!" The gray haired manager rose to his feet along with his cohort. "We have made our decision and it stands firm. We will send updated files to your team ASAP. We have nothing more to say, and that's final. This meeting is adjourned! Goodnight!" With that, he turned on his heel and briskly marched out of the room, slamming one of the double doors behind him, leaving the two black haired men behind.

"Mr. Spears, there's no room for sentimentality. Just obey your orders," the senior manager said with a smug smirk. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sir," the frustrated reaper bit out. He glared as the other man casually exited the conference room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. As soon as he knew the two higher ranking managers were clear of the room, he drove his fist hard into the solid oak table. "Dammit! How stupid are these people? Why don't they destroy that abomination?" The manager sighed in exasperation, knowing he had no choice but to follow orders lest he face the consequences. He pinched the bridge of his nose and adjusted his glasses for the umpteenth time. "Honestly," he grumbled. "It's probably best to get rid of them both. As much as it pains me to say it, that thing will kill to protect Crevan, and as possessive as he is, he'll do the same for that miserable abomination."

xxxxxx

The young, blond reaper clung to the legend's robes, desperately begging for the end while the latter just laughed maniacally. The other two reapers hid themselves in case the greenhorn spelled trouble for them, however, they still had a prime view of the boy's performance.

"Please, Undertaker," the blond sobbed. "I didn't want this. I-I-I need to find her, the Yurei. I don't know any jokes, but I have information. Please, I just want to end it all! Please!" The young reaper fell weeping at the silver mortician's feet. "I didn't want this. I just wanted to sleep forever, the final exit, ya know. I didn't want this shit job where I go around killing people. Send me to Hell for all I care! Fuck redemption, I want the end! I didn't want to live as a human either..." The young man jerked his head up, neon green eyes blazing with anger fueled by sadness as he looked the legend in the face from behind plain, black glasses. "Do you know how it feels to be raped by your father while your mother sits back and laughs at you while she watches? I was supposed to forget that when I moved on, but I still remember every vivid detail, and no doctor in the realm can figure out why or how." The boy's head drooped as tears began to fall. "Every fucking...soul I reap tears at me. I envy the lives I wish I had, and the ones as horrible as mine used to be, only serve to peel back the skin over and over and over and over and over, pouring salt inside each time before it's stitched up and the cycle repeats."

The mortician's face fell. Usually, this was the part where he'd tell the young man how pathetic he was and get over it. The legend's soft spot for crying was reserved for the fairer sex. Given the young man's circumstances, and the fact that there was something in it that was beneficial to him and his Lovely, he chose to play nice. "Come on, boy, get up," the mortician commanded, holding out a hand to the sobbing heap at his feet. "I'll go make us some tea. What was your name?"

Taking a seat on a nearby coffin, the blond softly replied, "Brian Jones."

"I had a good friend named Marcus Jones," the silver haired man mused.

"I assure you, I'm of no relation, Undertaker."

"I wasn't insinuating that you were of any relation," he replied, setting the tea tray down next to the young reaper. "Black tea. I hope it's to your liking. Hehehe. Now then, what information do you have for me, young man?'

"I was assigned six souls to reap yesterday. All of them were teenage suicides behind a pub." The mortician's eyes hardened beneath his bangs. "When I tried to extract their records, they refused to come out. I remember legends about Yurei from my time as a human. They can possess you and make you commit suicide. They are soulless beings, and the Ikiryo is the most feared of all because it's neither alive nor dead. It just is. When I came across the six boys whose records records wouldn't budge, I knew there was a Yurei around. Prior to this incident, I overheard my boss talking to four of my coworkers, one of whom was in my graduating class, about something they referred to as 'The Prototype', and how he wants it destroyed, but upper management wants it alive." The blond paused to sip his tea.

"Go on," the mortician encouraged.

The blond nodded. "Well, Miss Sutcliff got mad and stormed off to her office, so I followed her. I stayed out of sight, of course, and she was crying about the whole affair. Ronald came in a few minutes later to check on her, and they talked about how upper management wants to use 'The Prototype' as a weapon. Miss Sutcliff was highly agitated about Mr. Spears' use of the pronoun 'it' for 'The Prototype.' She was insistent that 'The Prototype' was a woman, but all of management treated her like an object anyway; now, more so than ever, because they have plans to use her as a weapon. I know that the Yurei and 'The Prototype' are one and the same. That's why I'm here to tell you that Grell and Ronald should be here soon to warn you of upper management's plans."

"What does this have to do with the six souls you attempted to reap?" the silver reaper asked suspiciously.

"I had to fill out an incident report and turn it in to Mr. Spears. I think he thinks the Yurei is stronger. I saw him redact my name from the report just before I left his office, so I don't know if that is of any reassurance to you or not." The young man put two and two together. Realizing what the redhead was going on about when she insisted 'The Prototype' was a female, a flash of insight came to him. The creature was actually two beings. Yurei have no gender, and why would a reaper claim something without form anyhow? "Undertaker, can two independent beings merge together inside a single body after an extended period of simple coexistence?"

The mortician didn't respond.

"Oh, dear God, what have I done?" the blond reaper wailed. " _I_ just want to die; not her, not you, not anyone else. Fuck! I'm just too much of a pathetic coward to end it a second time."

=Legendary Death. We shall grant his release.=

*You'll need his scythe.*

=Not if he is willing.=

*As you wish, my love.*

The blond stared in astonishment at the prototype that had just appeared from the shadows as she silently communicated with the legend with subtle changes in the glow of her eyes. "It's true," the boy gasped. "You did claim her! You are so beautiful together. I hope Ronald and Grell get to you soon."

"We've been warned," the cold lavender storm stated. "And we appreciate your warning as well. For that, I'll give you what you want. Are you ready to die?"

The young reaper's eyes lit up. "Oh yes, more so now than ever!"

"Brian, what are you thinking!" the blond's former classmate yelled as he came barreling out of the shadows.

"Ronnie, leave them be!" the redhead chided.

"I'm sorry we have to meet this way, Miss Sutcliff," the blond reaper sniffled. "You're more beautiful now that I can see you out in the open." He turned his attention back to the two toned reaper. "This is what I want Ronald, what I need. Don't try to talk me out of it anymore," he admonished. "Goodbye and thank you." He bowed with a small smile to the occupants in the shop before turning to follow his salvation to a private place to meet his fate.

xxxxxx

"I'd prefer to use my Death Scythe, and at least appear not to be as cowardly as I really am," the young reaper said bitterly as he summoned the aforementioned object.

=Young Death, you are willing. Your weapon is not required.=

He studied his plain, standard issue Death Scythe. His heart was never into his work, so he never bothered to modify his scythe, just as he never bothered to customize his glasses. Everything about him blended in to the background like a shadow. That's what he wanted to become, a literal shadow. Unseen, unknown, never missed, unnecessary. "I know, but it's what I want. Please allow me this last request."

The weapon nodded, allowing the boy his final wish. Her blackened eyes focused on the cold, gray metal scythe. As a reaper, the blond was capable of inhuman feats. Though he was willing to die, he was still afraid. This indeed may prove to be interesting.

"Thank you, Yurei," the young man said gratefully. "Last night I dreamed that I was an unnecessary shadow. No one missed me, I was unknown and unseen. I was void and I felt loved in the darkness, and I felt happy in the emptiness. I wish to be there, Yurei."

=I will give you that which you deserve.=

"Finally," the reaper said, robotically raising his Death Scythe. "This is the end."

Obsidian bored into neon green, the soft, airy voice of the petite sensually sliced through the blond reaper's subconscious as his scythe sliced easily through his flesh, effectively impaling his chest cavity.

=Unnecessary Death deserves Nothing.=

For the first time in either of his lives, both as a human, and as a reaper, he was happy.


	14. Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by and reading this wonderful tale of strangeness. *waves*
> 
> This chapter contains rape. *Consider yourself warned*  
> Not to worry, there is a totally consensual palate cleanser later on. *Again, you have been warned.*  
> Enjoy!

_"There she is. There she is." A low chuckle echoed in the dark room. The prototype felt alone and confused. Her mortician lover was nowhere to be found; and she was blindfolded, gagged, and heavily restrained to an all too familiar examination table in an all too familiar laboratory where she spent the vast majority of her life. She didn't need eyes to see that. She just knew. She felt dried blood on her neck when she moved her head toward the voice of her captor. The crust of dark crimson flaked off, digging into the sensitive flesh, reopening the wound where the leather strap was buckled down much too tight. Her panicked eyes glowed beneath the thick cloth of the blindfold, but no one could tell through the opacity of the black fabric wrapped around her face. She had never been strapped down that tightly by the neck before, not even on her captor's most sadistic of days! And where was her lover? Why wasn't he here to protect her as he so often promised? They must have taken him from her! Sorrow and rage spilled over her pale cheeks in the darkness. She couldn't believe for even a second that her Legendary Death had gone the way of his guests. As though her mind had been read, the dark chuckle of her captor returned, this time closer to her than before. "Oh no, my pretty," the wheezy voice crooned and chuckled darkly. "He's right here." Her captor's hot breath sent waves of nausea throughout her very being as it hit her face. She tried and failed miserably to hold in the vomit as her captor slid his hand up her bare leg in search for what was hidden in between. She choked on the burning contents of her stomach as it rose up seeking an exit only to be blocked by the ball gag. Painful and disgusting as it was to do so, she endured and forced it back down, lest she die humiliated, suffocating in the violence of her own stomach acid. "Just like old times, eh?" the wheezy voice rasped in her ear, knocking her out of her thoughts._

_Immediately, the experiment recognized who it was that was violating her. "Oc!" she cried frantically through the ball gag._

_"I knew you'd remember, eh, my pretty," the violator replied._

_"Err's Areean?" the female demanded of the sadist in a muffled, unintelligible voice through the gag._

_The rogue Empath snorted out broken laughter. "He's around." A brief silence fell over the room as the blue eyed man's eyes took on a sadistic glow. "Now then, it's time for you to shut the fuck up." He punched her in the face and climbed on top of her. Leaning down in her ear, he whispered, "Just like old times, ya cunt." With that, he forced himself into the cold winter night without mercy. Muffled screaming and two sets of maniacal laughter filled the room as blood poured down from the violated ice storm. "I told you he was here," the violator grunted out when he finished. He laughed as he dismounted her, and to add insult to injury, the rapist dipped his fingers into her bleeding divide and slapped her across the face, smearing it with her own blood in wide messy streaks. "Shut the fuck up and quit crying, you silly cow! You should know by now that this is routine!" the blue eyed male huffed._

_A familiar burst of eerie laughter resounded from further away in the room followed by a thud. Obviously, the other occupant fell to the floor having gotten his jollies at her expense. She knew who it was, and couldn't believe it. He was laughing at her. Her lover, her mate, the one she loved was laughing at_ her _! The eugenicist finally removed the wretched girl's blindfold to reveal the laughing madman, proving that he was telling the truth about his presence in the room. "I told you he was here, my pretty," the blue eyed sadist confirmed with a dark chuckle._

_Fresh tears stung the violated Rarity's bloodshot eyes as she stared in drug hazed disbelief at the cackling reaper before her. She tried to speak, but the ball gag obstructed the words she needed to say. She slammed her head down against the metal table within the limited confines available to her, wailing in agony over the violation and betrayal. She wished to the Goddess that she could destroy the two wastes of life laughing at her, but knew it was fruitless. The bastards had her under the influence of powerful drugs meant to subdue her and render her powerless and unable to fight back. She was completely at the mercy of her captors, and with this knowledge at the forefront of her mind, she screamed through the ball gag, wishing for a death that would never come._

_The legend she thought she knew and trusted sauntered over to her. "Oh, did you have something to say, Lovely?" The words drawled out, dark as night. He tilted his head to the side, exposing phosphorescent eyes that never lie. The malice in his once captivating eyes complemented the sadistic grin plastered to his face. The man of unnecessary shadows removed the gag from the broken woman's mouth and tossed it aside. "What's on your fragile little mind, hm?" he asked mockingly._

_"Why?" the female demanded hoarsely. "Everything. It was...a lie? But why?"_

_The madman laughed, casting more unnecessary shadows over his haunting features. "Of course it was a lie, my dear. No one could love you! Self preservation wins in the end, you know, and I have my connections. If it weren't for you, I'd have been tried for desertion by now. Since you're here, I'll see to it that you're destroyed, but first we're going to have a little fun."_

_"I loved you," the lavender winter sorrowfully murmured._

_The reaper doubled over laughing. "You've given me prime laughter today, milady!" His tone suddenly grew deadly serious as he gripped her chin and glared loathing fury into the illuminated despair of blue and green. "I don't love you, and I have never loved you, and I never will love you. You and that green haired bitch should've been killed before Jones ever found you two. In case you're wondering, it was my idea to double the restraints. I forgot that you have to breathe." He turned his attention to the Empath. "Have at her. Come get me when you get bored. Ehehehehe!"_

_The experiment tried in vain to thrash in her restraints to escape her tormentor, but she knew it was useless. She had no choice but to endure torture after torture at the hands of an old enemy and a traitor._

xxxxxx

"Get your hands off me, you fucking son of a bitch!" The merged female bolted blindly out of bed into the wall, stumbling backward onto the floor. In a haze of enraged despair, she scrambled to her feet and attempted to flee the shop. "I said get your fucking hands off of me!" She shrieked from between two realities as the mortician intercepted her before she went hurtling down the stairs.

"It was just a nightmare," he said calmly as he tried to soothe the psychotic woman wrapped in his arms.

"Fucking LIAR! You're one of THEM!" She bit his arm, violently jerking her head side to side, tearing out a small piece of flesh and spitting it in his face. _"You're part of it!"_ She shrieked with lost, paranoid eyes looking straight through the reaper from another reality. Her lights were on, but she wasn't home. 

"No, I'm NOT!" the reaper shouted as he slammed the smaller woman against the wall, pinning her by the wrists. He stepped closer to the petite, trapping her between himself and her spot against the wall. "Listen to me, Lovely," he said softly as he gazed down at her with equal softness from hypnotic green eyes. "Whatever happened, it was just a nightmare. I will never leave you. I will always protect you. I will always love you."

The small woman's eyes welled with angry tears. "You laughed at me when I was raped...then you said you never loved me...then you said you were going to destroy me, not kill, destroy. I'm an object to you." 

"Look at me," the mortician softly demanded. When she refused, he repeated his demand more firmly. "Look at me." He took her chin in one hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Look at me," the mortician repeated. The paranoid Rarity's harsh glare locked on to his hypnotic eyes that never lie. "I would never harm you in such a way. I will _never_ harm you. You are mine. I will kill anyone who dares to hurt you. I promised to protect you and I will." The silver reaper cupped both sides of his lover's face, once again forcing her to meet his gaze; to make the violent Antarctic storm see the warmth, tenderness, and compassion on display in his glowing, green orbs. "I hurt when you hurt, my love. You are not an abomination or an object. You're a lovely, powerful woman who should be treasured and adored."

The combination's grip on reality was within reach. She slid down the wall to her knees, her lover quickly joining her. "Your eyes never lie, Adrian," she mumbled, looking back up at his phosphorescent compassion, but underneath was a love so unfathomably deep that the Goddess herself couldn't sever it. "Do you really mean it?" she asked meekly. He had never lost his patience with her before, never mistreated her no matter what she said or did or how much she doubted him. She had her reasons, though. She instantly felt a crushing wave of guilt for doubting him again after he just poured his heart out to her, especially after pulling her out from the void between realities after having another nightmare. This was one of the worst nightmares she'd experienced, and here was the moment of truth as she awaited an answer from her silver love.

The legend tucked a sweaty tendril of lavender behind the tattooed experiment's ear. "Look at me, Lovely." Their eyes met once again. This time, when she looked at him, her grip on reality was secure. Her large, lupine eyes shed tears of doubt from a soft glow of hope. "Every single word I uttered, I meant. You are a treasure. You are _my_ treasure, and I adore you so. You deserve to be loved, not tortured. I am more than willing to love you, not because I need to, but because I want to."

The lavender haired woman felt terrible. His actions spoke louder than his sweet words, but she was the one who continuously put him through the shredder. His enchanting eyes never lied, but she constantly tried to convince herself that they did by placing other male's faces on his when she knew damn well he was not like them in any capacity. "Adrian, I'm so so-"

Her apology was cut off by an unexpected heated kiss. "I love you," Silver Death breathed into the kiss as it became much more passionate. "Always remember that," he commanded, pulling her onto his lap. 

"I'm sorry about your arm," the female whispered as she embraced her lover.

"It's already healed, no damage done," the reaper smiled and presented the previously mauled forearm to the woman to inspect.

"I'm glad." She smiled as brightly as her eyes lit up when her lips were once again captured in the reaper's kiss. "Adrian, I love you," she whispered. His clawed fingers ran the length of her back, making the flesh crawl beneath her tattoo, and eliciting a low purr from the back of her throat as she pressed herself against him. Her fingers slipped through silver, her tongue toyed with the piercings in the reaper's ears, and at some point her clothing vanished along with his. 

The petite's hands delicately traced the long, winding scar traversing the mortician's back, delighting in the way his flesh quivered below the scar tissue. She squeaked as he suddenly grabbed her tightly around the waist, holding her frozen in place under his possessive, predatory gaze. "I want you, Stella," he half purred, half growled as he let his free hand slowly travel up his companion's back until it found a place in lavender softness. She responded by digging her delicate hands into a mass of silver and bringing their lips together in _that_ kiss that was theirs and theirs alone. 

"No, Adrian, _I_ have to have you," the petite demanded as he alternated sweet kisses and playful bites along her neck.

"Then, I'm all yours, Lovely." He lovingly obliged to the lavender Rarity on top of him. Her sweetness became vicious, yet it was still delicate in all its ferocity as she demonstrated what a true biological weapon was capable of besides warfare. Lavender bounced in swollen strings as she rolled and snapped her hips astride Legendary Death like an exotic animal. His clawed hands grabbed on to her hips as they were dancing in their exotic, dangerous rhythm and used them as leverage to suit his needs as he snapped his hips up to meet hers. She reciprocated, and like the unsated gluttons they were, the lovers turned it into a sort of competition of endurance. The mortician made a tiny whimper. She knew he was close because he had to be closer to her. So, she gave in and laced her fingers through his as he pulled himself up allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. "Oh Charon, Stella, I love you!" the reaper groaned as he moved in tandem with his lavender Rarity. He stole her lips in a sweet kiss, holding her fast to him, unlocking her secret places.

"Oh Goddess, Adrian, I love you so much," she whispered in return as she felt sharp teeth sink into her neck. She tensed and yelped in pleasured pain as her lover's passion was spent.

"I can still see your perfect beauty in the dark even with such bad eyesight," the silver haired man mused. "The light in your eyes is just that bright, Lovely. It's just that enchanting." He stroked a tendril of lavender out of the brightly glowing, mismatched orbs. "You say you could live in my eyes, I could live in yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: Charon is not only the ferryman of Hades, it's also one of Pluto's moons.


	15. Hidden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thought's ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
> 
> Thanks for reading my super fun story.  
> Implied underage sexual abuse contained within. This is the beginnings of William T. Spears appearing to be a villain. Sorry, Will fans, but I had to do it. He's just got that attitude, and I have my reasons why he's OOC, which will be revealed much later. ***You have been warned.***

Five reapers were gathered in a small conference room for an update on the special case they were assigned. Each of them thumbed through the new file folders containing the classified materials. The red reaper and her subordinate were already aware of what the update was all about, but being the brilliant actress she was, and the casual goof off he was, the pair feigned ignorance quite well.

"It has been brought to my attention that one of our junior officers has gone rogue," the stoic manager announced sharply. "One, Brian Jones, who was assigned to collect six souls-all of which were suicides-two nights ago. None of the records were able to be collected as you can see in your files. We believe the officer is unstable, and therefore, unfit for duty. He is extremely intelligent, triple A student at the Academy, and graduated at the top of his class. Jones is also a weapons expert and excelled in Scythe Modification, although he chose not to customize his own Death Scythe. He excelled in combat and is as powerful in fighting skill as Mr. Sutcliff. Unfortunately, the young man has a history of anti-social behavior and severe depression despite having superior abilities. He had only one person he considered a friend: Ronald Knox."

All eyes fell on the aforementioned reaper. He swallowed hard and met his boss' hard glare. "We had some classes together and I felt sorry for the kid, so I was nice to him. It seemed like everyone picked on him all the time, so I'd hang out with him and try to make him feel a little less lonely. I stopped hanging around with him after graduation. If we saw each other in passing, I'd say hi out of courtesy, but that's about it." The junior reaper shook his head sadly. "The kid's got issues, Spears-senpai."

The pruner wielding reaper continued without addressing his subordinate's commentary any further. "We will not be bringing in a reconnaissance team to locate Mr. Jones due to the sensitivity of this case. Instead, you are to spend half of your shift gathering information on 'The Prototype's' activities and the other half searching for Mr. Jones. Do I make myself clear?"

A grumble of "yes, sirs" resounded from around the cheap, wooden table.

Satisfied with how smoothly the meeting went, the superior officer dismissed his subordinates to fulfill their respective duties.

All but two of the reapers thought they were going to find a living, but unstable junior officer. The redhead and her junior, however, knew better. They knew there was a dead reaper bound to turn up soon...or so they thought. "We have to find the body, Ronnie. The records won't be able to be extracted, and they'll know he went to her."

"Senpai, we don't know where they went," the dual colored reaper pointed out.

"I think I have a pretty good idea," the redhead said with a knowing grin.

xxxxxx

*We all have our secrets*

For the first time since living together, the reaper woke before the Rarity, and it was his turn to watch her as she slept. Her fair hair shimmered in the morning sunlight struggling to break through the cracks in the black curtains. His compulsion to arrange her long, lavender silk into elaborate works of art fed her obsession for it. But, even he had to admit that he loved the way she looked with her hair unfurled far more than when confined, especially when they made love. She resembled a rare, exotic, wild animal: beautiful, vicious, and free. Her eyes still glowed as she slept, lighting up the capillaries from behind translucent eyelids. Subtle changes in the brightness, no doubt coinciding with her emotions in whatever she was dreaming of, held his attention for an indeterminate amount of time until she shifted positions, turning her lovely face away from him.

As he roved the curvature of the Rarity's tattooed back with hidden eyes, the mortician noticed something peculiar she kept hidden from him the entire time they'd been together. A low growl of burning rage spun like a tornado in his chest as he stared intently at the marred flesh of winter's inner thighs. For an entire year, she took advantage of his bad eyesight and masterfully kept the random pattern of crescent shaped scars accented by straight and narrow lines with a dash of sloppy punctures hidden from his view. He couldn't fault her for finding ways to conceal the marred flesh from him. He couldn't direct his anger at her as it was most likely shame that kept that one wall between them from falling down. Is it any wonder why they always did it in the dark? Is it any wonder why he never got to completely enjoy her the way she did him?

*My lovely lady, what _did_ they do to you?*

Is. It. Any. Wonder? He'd technically claimed her, but he wanted her. All of her. The only thing he could do was wait and keep his terribly unsated hunger in check as he did not wish to be like the Undertaker in the nightmare she had just suffered.

The experiment's pale, smiling face turned back to him, her mismatched eyes glowed bright beneath translucent lids, and her lavender hair draped over her slender body like a silken sheet. She was serene, and even more so when she turned over on her side, still facing the silver reaper with a thick tendril of lavender tumbling over her shoulder, barely concealing her breasts. The petite's smile grew wider and more contented, her glowing eyes grew brighter as she reached out for her mate's silver braid. Twirling the silver plait between her delicate fingers, she pushed herself against the reaper and lazily draped an arm around his torso. He, in turn, encircled her waist and pulled the sleeping woman closer. "Adrian, I love you so much," the sleeping winter storm murmured.

"I love you as well, my lovely one," the legend whispered as he nuzzled his cheek on her head.

"So beautiful...my Adrian." The Rarity's eyes flashed brightly under alabaster eyelids when she elicited a pleasured gasp followed by a low purr from the mortician as she lightly traced the scar around his throat with the tip of her tongue and followed up with an airy kiss.

" _My_ lovely Stella." The mortician returned the soft kiss to her lips and watched her eyes glow bright again. Placing gentle, sweet kisses over each eye, he smiled and said, "Your eyes are glowing." As the room grew brighter with the progressing morning light, he remembered what his Lovely had kept hidden from him for so long. For a split second he considered basking in the beauty of her naked glory, but for the sake of her volatile psyche, and out of pure devotion to her, he pulled the plush, pink covers over both of them, taking pleasure in the warmth of her body as she immediately snuggled up to him. The legendary reaper possessively held his mate, resting his head atop hers. She was his and absolutely _no one_ was taking her from him, especially the bastards who marred her lovely legs with violence.

*We all have our secrets. It's no secret that she is perfect to me even with the scars. It only makes her more beautiful. Absolute, Perfect Beauty.*

xxxxxx

The madam picked the wrong girl to try recruiting that night. Unbridled terror compounded with unfathomable sadness twisted her features into an uncharacteristic snarl. "Get out of my head!" The madam's desperate cries had no effect on the expressionless petite staring her down in the streets of Whitechapel. The dark, airy voice of the obsidian eyed woman sliced through the madam's subconscious like a blade through skin.

~Had you not accosted me on the way home, we wouldn't be here, would we? All I wanted to do was bring a certain someone their favorite dinner, but you so rudely interrupted me.~

"I just thought you'd-"

~Make a splendid whore. I assure you, _madam,_ I do not intend to help you keep your perverse cycle spinning in perpetuity. Tell me, how does it feel to fall from grace? I've never been of noble blood. Did it hurt when he kicked you out of the gilded carriage?~

Sadness best forgotten stained the madam's face. "Whore," she seethed under her breath through grit teeth as she stood straight with clenched fists. "I was _his_ whore."

~Daddy kicked you out of his life over London Bridge, didn't he? His big, booted foot right in the small of your back.~

Without warning, the taller female made a mad dash to the London Bridge, knocking over pedestrians in blinding despair. She didn't know how long she ran, but she was finally there when she came to a panting stop at the familiar place where she was disowned as a teenage girl. She peered over the edge like she did that day; the old, familiar sting pricking the corners of her eyes. "I was _his_ whore, and somehow it's my fault. Bullocks!"

~We meet again.~ The dark, airy, malignant voice pierced the woman's subconscious once again.

"Bullocks!" She screamed at the black clad female as she materialized beside her. The expressionless features of her face coupled with the solid black where there should have been eyes cast a horrifying image in the taller woman's mind. The black pits on the petite's face seemed to grow darker in the moonlit night. A gust of wind blew lavender hair back, exposing the contrast of skin and eyes even more. For the first time since their encounter, the lavender haired woman made a subtle movement with her head, tilting it to one side. A second, stronger gust of wind picked up, catching the petite's lavender locks in a swirling motion. This time, she allowed her head to follow the motion of her hair with fluid grace, but kept the blackened eyes focused on the madam whose eyebrows knitted in confusion upon seeing the scar peek over the high neckline of the petite's black dress.

~You see, _madam,_ I already belong to someone. Unlike your daddy, my someone will kill to keep me. Your daddy knew you enjoyed playing his whore a little too much, so when you came of age to be married off, he couldn't have a sullied little thing like you taint the family name, and here is where he dumped you.~

"It's not true!" the other woman shouted.

~Oh, but it is. You enjoyed the comforts of...home, so to speak. Daddy's big, comfy bed, then, one day, it's all gone. Now look at you, a symbol of the thing you hate. Why don't you jump into the most comfortable bed of all, hm?~

"Not true, not true, not true, not true..."

~Here's your chance to redeem yourself. Go ahead, jump. Jump, just like you wanted to do the day that daddy threw you out like the trash you are.~

"...Not true...not true! Not true! 'Tis bullocks, I say!" the broken madam shrieked.

~You know very well that it is. Just be glad this is a merciful end.~

"What the? Who?"

~Just a friend.~

=We are necessary ends to unnecessary shadows.=

With agonized tears from memories of a past best left forgotten, the female on the brink numbly threw herself over the railing and unceremoniously plummeted to her death from the place where she fell from grace. A sickening crack echoed in the night as the woman's skull collided with a support beam before she finally splashed down in the water below. The lady in black stood, staring over the edge, making sure her work was complete.

~I will be no one's whore. Never again will I be anyone's fuck toy.~

Tension in the air, accompanied by an odd electrical current, signaled one thing: a portal was about to form, which meant a reaper was about to show up. All traces of her were gone before the reaper appeared. Within a few moments, she was safe and sound in her room at the shop, and hoped to have a night free from nightmares as she fell asleep in her lover's embrace.

xxxxxx

_~Those eyes, green and yellow, looking at me with such hatred. The face a neutral mask, with loathing eyes that betray it. Every time he's reminded of the 'pretty one', he does this to me; he touches me, he hurts me. He knows my obsession and exploits me. He found out my secret hunger and objectifies me. I wish I could see the 'pretty one' again. He wouldn't do these awful things, would he?...Oh Goddess, not again!~_

_The rogue Empaths wanted to borrow the stern reaper's Death Scythe to see if their little experiment would work, but they didn't expect the reaper to join them in their perverse plan. Of course, the uptight man wasn't going to hand over his weapon to a pair of untrained scientists, but he was curious to know what the outcome of the test would be. All the eugenicists wanted to know was whether or not the prototype was "unreapable", and lo and behold, the reaper's pruning shears were the perfect tool for the job. However, they fibbed a little when they told the manager why they needed the scythe for the test, stating: "We just want to make sure the prototype can withstand blows from a Death Scythe just in case there's any trouble out on the field. It's just a general precaution." When questioned as to why the test had to carried out on the inner thighs: "It's a sensitive area of the body capable of causing the subject maximum pain, therefore, leading to more accurate results." The Dispatch manager bought it hook, line, and sinker._

_"Ok, my pretty, we have a new round of tests," a dark haired, blue eyed Empath said in a cheerfully sadistic voice. "How pretty you are with your legs open wide and tied down." He snickered at the drug hazed young Rarity._

_The restrained lavender experiment lolled her head around, seeking out the wheezing voice in her ear. A drug induced stupor began carrying her off into unconsciousness. Her mismatched eyes glowed dimly as she tried to remember why she was in the room with the three men. As she was about to drift off, a sudden, sharp, searing hot pain, the likes of which she had never felt before, struck her inner thigh, instantly counteracting the drug's effect. It hurt infinitely worse than being fused with the Yurei. Another bolt of pain followed, then another, and another. She was too busy screaming in pain until she passed out to notice snippets of celluloid rising from the puncture wounds only to be instantly sucked back in again._

_"What is the meaning of this?" the pruner wielding reaper forcefully demanded. Deep down, he was hoping to have killed her, but he couldn't let anyone know that. Protocol._

_"Mr. Spears, as you have just witnessed with our demonstration, our little project_ can _withstand an attack from a Death Scythe," the eugenicist wheezed out._

_"Why can't the records be extracted?"_

_"Was she on your little list?" he asked sarcastically._

_"No."_

_"Also, you didn't give her a lethal blow, Mr. Spears," the other Empath piped in. "That isn't what we were asking for. As far as her body reabsorbing the records...Well, she's a Rarity, sir, she's different than the rest of us. Rarities are more powerful. That trick could come in handy."_

_The reaper looked down at the unconscious girl and allowed an ugly sneer to grace his features for a few fleeting seconds, then returned his attention to the other men in the room. "Duly noted," he said curtly. With a disgusted sneer at the bloody, unconscious girl spread eagle on the examination table, he turned and glared at the blue eyed men. "Leave us," the reaper ordered with cold malice._

xxxxxx

That morning the mortician dreamed through her subconscious like she had done with him many months ago.

*With a Death Scythe? And William T. Spears of all reapers to violate my Lovely at that age?*

One of her hidden puzzles had been solved, but the silver reaper knew there was much more to her than what she let on, however, he would bide his time for his lady in black. She held the silver braid tightly in her hands, twisting it through her delicate fingers, obviously seeking solace. The glow in her eyes was angry, but the pained whimpers betrayed it. The silver legend held his Lovely in a comforting embrace, humming an obscure tune as he stroked her hair. He cradled her head to his chest and whispered sweet words in her ear as she began to shake from the nightmare that plagued her. Eventually, she calmed enough to relax her grip on his braid and slip a small arm around his waist. He held her closer, happy that she was there with him in this reality.

*I will never leave you, Lovely.*

xxxxxx

"Senpai, are you sure this is the right place?" The young reaper with the bicolored hair looked around the clearing in the middle of the woods scratching his head in confusion.

"Of course I am!" the red reaper snapped.

"Then, where's the body?"

The effeminate reaper continued her search until a peculiar thought popped in her head. "Ronnie, what if she hid the body?" Her subordinate looked at her like she sprouted a second head. "Think about it, she knows that the suicides she influences have souls that can't be collected, so if one of ours falls under her influence, she has to hide the body or it'll be tracked back to her."

"Senpai, the only other place she has to go is back to 'Taker's shop."

"What are you saying, Ronnie?" the redhead asked.

"You know we can't be destroyed by fire," the junior officer stated matter of factly.

"And we can still sense each other, whether we're buried or drowned..." the red reaper trailed off, realizing where this was leading. Her junior officer had always been so perceptive it was enviable. "Don't tell me..."

The younger reaper took on an uncharacteristically ominous tone. "She found a way to destroy the body without a trace."

Red Death stared open mouthed at her partner in shock. "Then, she must have taken his Death Scythe to Undertaker. He has ways of taking care of those that even the higher ups don't know about."

"Senpai, is 'Taker really _that_ powerful?" the blond and black reaper asked in curious wonder.

Death in red nodded. "When I was in the Academy, I snuck into the Library once and took a peek into the Vaults. I almost got caught, mind you. Anyway, Unnie's book was totally different from ours. It had a black cover written in an ancient language long dead, and it's the only one with a divine lock holding it shut. I asked him about it once and he laughed at me. I found out later on that he's the very first of our kind. He wasn't born of the human's sin of suicide. He was created by the Divine. So, yes, Undertaker is extremely powerful."

"So, _that's_ why upper management wants him dead," the younger realized.

"Exactly," the redhead confirmed. "And now his mate is evolving. I don't know if he knows, or if it was meant to be part of the project. Our files are scant on that information, but I think upper management is definitely hiding something."

"I think everyone's hiding something from someone," the young agent grumbled.

"Why not join them?" The red reaper grinned mischievously at her subordinate, exposing a mouthful of pointed razor sharp teeth. "This will be _our_ little secret."


	16. Evolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
> 
> Thanks for the reads. Sorry it's been a while. I haven't been feeling well. Boo, sickness! Boo!  
> Anyway, this chapter contains gore and suicide via mind control. ***You have been warned.***  
> Enjoy!

~And now he knows.~

The winter of mass destruction laid in her lover's protective, silver embrace, watching him sleep. She let that last bit of shame evacuate her being. The final wall that stood between her and the silver haired man sleeping peacefully by her side came crumbling down. If he wanted to leave her because the shadows of her past left its ugly, perverse mark so close to her hidden place, he would have done so already. Instead, her silver reaper was holding her closer; firm, yet gentle. Her last bits of shame for everything she had done and everything that had been done unto her-from being violated to being the involuntary death knell to an unknown number of beings-disappeared when she finally understood what it felt like to genuinely feel loved and wanted. Something about the way the reaper held her and whispered incoherent terms of sleepy endearment to her suddenly clicked. Then, she remembered

~That day I hid here in the shop, he was so difficult to read.~

that he had been alone for so long and in need of company of the living variety. She could sense his loneliness when she touched him. When she saw his eyes,

~His piercing, beautiful green eyes that never lie.~

they revealed the loneliness she sensed. They also had want, hunger, and something deeper lurking beneath it all. It was almost as if that deeper something was reserved for someone special...the One.

~Me?~

He wanted someone to love and to love him in return. He wanted that someone to share that inexplicable understanding on an unspoken level that no one else but them could share. Obviously, he wanted someone who shared his voracious appetite for sex, and who also relished in his never ending affection. Was that too much to ask? 

The lavender ice realized that those were the quiet demands hidden within the deeper emotion conveyed in his eyes the first time she beheld them, and finally the enigma made sense to her as she laid there in his arms.

~Every flash of passing emotion in his expressive eyes was supposed to be put together like a puzzle rather than read separately. That's how he finds who he's looking for.~

She thanked the Goddess for her gift and nuzzled into her lover's chest. "I love you, Adrian," the lavender haired woman whispered, stretching slightly to press a soft kiss on the scar around the reaper's throat.

He chuckled lowly and slid his long nails up the female's back, capturing her soft lips in an amorous kiss as she arched her body further into his. "As I love you, Lovely," the legend replied, once again protectively holding his companion. "As I do you, no matter what..."

Both beings drifted off to sleep, however, one of them had to tell the other about a certain reaper's missing corpse. The subject would most likely be breached soon, so why not get it over with now.

xxxxxx

Night shifted to day. One pair of reapers exchanged for another. All involved were tired and wanted to go home.

"Did ya have any luck finding the rogue last night?" the tall, blond reaper inquired of the outgoing night shift.

"No luck finding him," the redhead declared. "How about you, Ronnie?"

"Same here, senpai, no luck. The guy's a genius! He's probably long gone by now, but I still think we should keep looking in case he does turn up. Right guys?" the blond added with a hint of anxiety starting to creep in his tone of voice. Luckily, his superior caught it and quickly took over the remainder of the conversation.

"Anything from Dispatch?" the red reaper asked. "Anything in~ter~es~ting?" A devious grin spread over her lips as she enunciated each syllable.

The brunette intelligence officer spoke up: "There was another 'suspicious suicide' last night during your search for the rogue. A madam from the Whitechapel district jumped off the London Bridge. Her records were unable to be collected. A witness stated that a young girl vanished into thin air when the madam ran from the Whitechapel district. Another witness at the bridge stated that a young girl appeared out of nowhere and seemed to be goading the madam into jumping off the bridge, and as she did so, waited a few moments before disappearing. The working class are convinced that these areas are haunted by a vengeful spirit."

"My, that certainly is interesting, Alan, dear," the red reaper purred. "And I suppose this 'young girl', or what the working class believe to be a 'vengeful spirit' is none other than our darling 'Prototype', hm?"

"That's right, Miss Sutcliff," the petite reaper agreed. "The reports are correct, she has completely merged with the Ikiryo."

"Well then, Ronnie and I must be off. Good luck."

"Later guys!" the junior cheered as he followed his mentor through the open portal.

The others bid their colleagues farewell, ignorant of the secrets that the night withheld from the day.

xxxxxx

The unhinged weapon stared blankly at the ceiling, letting everything set in. She was evolving and she didn't know why or how. It had been on her mind all morning, and she decided it would be in her best interest-and his-to tell her silver protector what she was becoming and what she did to his fellow reaper.

"I destroyed him," the female blurted out. "Everything, including the Death Scythe. I-I...destroyed it all."

The mortician blinked his eyes slowly. "Destroyed who, Lovely?" he asked in a voice still hoarse and groggy from sleep.

"The young reaper who came here seeking death."

The mortician's eyes went wide in shocked terror as he sat bolt upright in the bed, gripping his companion by the shoulders, consequently bringing her up with him. He took hold of her jaw as he flipped his bangs back, forcing her to look into his piercing eyes. "How the hell did you do that?"

Fresh tears pricked at the corners of the girl's eyes from the physical pain of his vice like grip on her jaw. What hurt the most, though, was he seemed not to notice. A single tear rolled down her cheek when he repeated his harsh demand. In her love for him, she couldn't bring herself to be the arbiter of his destruction as she would with anyone else who was this way with her. Instead of responding verbally, she allowed her other self to speak for her.

=Legendary Death, why do you punish She? She is me. You punish me. We have not wronged you.=

The soft, airy voice with a certain malignant edge drove its way into the reaper's mind as the female lightly traced his hand with her fingertips. Wavering light in her mismatched eyes combined with the soft, delicate touches that always won his heart, traded her jaw for the persuasive fingers lacing through his. His piercing eyes met her tearful, pleading eyes. He fucked up, now he was going to lose her.

*You're not being punished, Lovely. I'm sorry...I'm just...I don't know how a reaper can be completely destroyed, scythe and all, without a trace. I'm afraid I'm going to lose you if they do find a single trace of him.*

=Legendary Death, he wished to be void and that is what we fulfilled. In Young Death's life and afterlife, he was plagued by unnecessary shadows that he desperately wished to escape, but they followed him everywhere he went. That is why he remembered life in the afterlife. You Shinigami couldn't figure it out, but as I am an Ikiryo, I preserve the memories of the living and the dead. Now Young Death has found happiness in Nothingness. He is void. No longer is he plagued by unnecessary shadows. He is One with Nothing.=

*Not even the Divine can do that.*

=The Goddess can. She is the Choicest Fruit of the Goddess. I am the Formless One, the outcast and most feared among the bastard children of the Goddess. She is me. I am She. We are One.=

*I am so sorry. I wasn't punishing you. I am just scared of losing you.~

=Worry not, Legendary Death. My love is her love. Her love is my love. We are yours.=

*I love you as well, Lovely.*

The mortician hesitantly embraced the tearful female and stroked her lavender hair, allowing a few tears of his own to shed. "I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so sorry." He pulled away after a few moments when she didn't return his affection.

"Why?" she whispered. "You've never been this way with me before. If not for punishment or playtime...I don't understand fear." She remained motionless, not caring that tears streamed down her face. "Adrian, did I wrong you?" She peered up at the silver haired man with a hurt, confused glow contrasting the nightmarish backdrop they were set within. 

Despite being an adult, she still had childlike qualities about her. One of which was the innocence in her large, lupine eyes. The reaper sighed and gently tipped his lover's head up to meet his soft gaze, but ended up transfixed by her enchanting light instead.

*That same innocence from many years ago...and that beautiful light never went out even after all she's been through.*

He tucked a stray pastel lock behind the Rarity's ear and began, "No Lovely, I was wrong. I was scared of losing you if you were found out through anything left behind. Reapers can still sense each other post mortem. I honestly did not mean to react the way that I did. I am so sorry, Stella."

The Arctic storm studied his eyes a moment longer.

~Eyes that never lie.~

"Your eyes never lie, Adrian. I'll forgive you. Had it been anyone else, they would be dead, but I can't bring myself to be the cause of your own end. There's something else." The female crawled onto the mortician's lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What's that m'dear?" he asked curiously. A grin slowly formed as he curled his arms around the petite's waist and drew her in close.

"I'm evolving. I'm not sure how it's happening or why. I don't know if it's supposed to be an end result of the eugenics project or an accidental occurrence from merging with the Ikiryo, but, nevertheless, it's happening. I noticed it when I took on the triplets out of the six thugs that attacked me. The metaphor about dog sacrificing and somehow the illusion became...I don't know how to describe it. I guess the best way to say it is, I made the figurative literal. I'm not afraid of evolving, but I am afraid of losing you." The petite lowered her head and withdrew her arms from around the reaper's scarred neck, letting her hands drift slowly down the pale surface of his chest.

~Every part of him is beautiful. Every scar, every angle, every strand of hair, every piercing from the tips of his ears to down _there,_ his eyes, his smile, his laugh, his wit, his affection, his passion, his hunger, his devotion... _He_ is beautiful, and to lose him...~

The legend held the evolving creature closer and lifted her head to meet his hypnotic eyes. "I meant what I said when I told you I'd never leave you, and that I'd always love and protect you. You're still my Lovely no matter what." His soft, sweet kiss lit up her previously tearful eyes in brilliant jewel tones, illuminating a set of sparkling joyful tears welling in the corners. "Don't cry anymore, Lovely. It breaks my heart to see you cry." The silver reaper kissed away the tears that fell from the lavender winter's wide, innocent, glowing eyes. "I will always love you." 

 

The experiment smiled, relieved that she wouldn't lose her silver love. "Thank you," she said gratefully, softly caressing the reaper's scarred cheek. "I love you, too." She placed a soft, lingering kiss on her lover's lips. "Your eyes glow when I kiss you."

"So do yours, my love," the mortician replied. "So do yours."

xxxxxx

The drunkard couldn't leave well enough alone. Absolute horror etched in his features as her blackened pits seemingly bored straight into his soul. He wailed incoherent slurs at the female in spite of the gnawing ache coming from within his core. All she wanted to do was enjoy her evening stroll through the cemetery, but thanks to this asshole, her plans were now ruined.

=Waste.=

~When did it start? Was it when you were bored with being pampered your whole life? Was it when you discovered what an abject failure you truly are without your family there to be your crutch? Is that why you have to do what you do?~

The dark, airy voice corkscrewed deep into the lush's brain causing excruciating pain no drug or drink could chase away. He probably shouldn't have attempted to accost the girl so far away from his home turf, but then again he was so fucked up from drinking all day he couldn't tell his ass from a hole in the ground.

=Waste.=

~I see that you're quite far from home. Are you here to recruit the dead into your prostitution ring?~

=Waste.=

The drunken pimp collapsed to the dirt with a wet plop, coughing up blood as he did so.

=Waste.=

~The monsters in your head consume _all_ of you from the inside out, bursting forth from your eyes, and exposing your secrets for all to see. Bitter little monsters like you. Gutless, spineless little worms who destroy innocent little girls.~

The only coherent words the drunken pervert managed to cry out was: "Shit! It hurts!" Blood mixed with tears oozed from eyes gradually being chewed from their sockets by tiny, corrosive mites. The same mites began consuming his skin, slowly, but surely, leaving his flesh raw and exposed for the next course of their gluttonous meal. To them, clothes, skin, bones, flesh, entrails, it was all the same. They were corrosive monsters; destroyers of men. They chewed his guts, ate his heart, supped on his liver, dined on his kidneys, feasted on his brain, and all in bits and pieces just for the sadistic joy in hearing him scream. The jolt the mites received when the man hit the ground in a pile of his own shit and blood didn't phase them one bit, they kept right on doing their job being the bitter, corrosive monsters they were. They didn't care how they were summoned into literal existence, but they enjoyed it just the same. To finally feel alive!

=WASTE!=

~If it hurts so much, put an end to your misery. You have the means in your hand, you wasted piece of shit.~

The bloodied man robotically smashed his liquor bottle on a nearby grave marker. He screamed in agony as he felt the corrosive mites eat through his body cavity. Some places were more eaten through than others, leaving vital organs exposed to the cool, evening breeze. Still, he was too drunk to address the obsidian eyed petite driving him to the end. Blind and empty handed, he felt around the grass for a shard of glass. Mumbling incoherently, he stiffly brought the biggest piece he found up to his neck and jabbed it in as hard and deep as he could, then with a hard, fast jerk, made his great blood splattered egress. The monsters had been silenced with the drunk pimp's sloppy exit. The corrosive mites disappeared leaving a hollowed out corpse and half eaten entrails in their wake. 

~People like him should be eradicated.~ 

The lady in black vanished, her evening stroll now abandoned because of some drunk pervert lying half eaten by his own corrosive bitterness, stewing in his own digestive juices in the middle of the cemetery.

xxxxxx

"I did not just see that, Eric!" the small reaper gasped in shock.

"I'm afraid ya did, Al," his not so secret lover replied.

Both day shift reapers caught the weapon in action just before shift change. This was _not_ in the files. This _had_ to be reported _immediately._ A light cut into the darkness. Shift change.

"Anything interesting, boys?" Red Death asked, cutting to the chase in a flirty tone.

"Any luck finding the rogue?" the blond added.

"No luck with the rogue, Ron," the Scotsman replied. "To answer your question, Miss Sutcliff, we did see something interesting with our darlin' 'Prototype' just before ya showed up."

"Is that so?" The red reaper perked up with false enthusiasm.

"A drunk guy killed himself. Nearly took his own head off when he cut his throat with a broken liquor bottle. As you know, the records won't be able to be extracted," the brunette stated matter of factly.

The redhead twirled her wrist dismissively. "So, what else is new?"

"'The Prototype' willed the 'figurative' into the 'literal'. In other words, the 'monsters' in the man's head became real, and began to actually consume him, which drove him to commit suicide. She's evolving, Miss Sutcliff," the mousy haired reaper said solemnly.

The taller reaper put an arm around his petite lover. "We have to report it to the boss. Let us know what you find out in the morning."

"Yeah, sure. Goodnight, boys," the red reaper called as the day turned to night.

"What are we going to do, senpai?" the junior reaper asked with worry heavily weighing the question.

"I don't know just yet, Ronnie, but right now, we need to be extra careful." The reaper in red's worry reciprocated that of her junior's as they proceeded with their nightly "duty" of watching over their fair haired friends.


	17. Clones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
> 
> Thanks for the reads. Much appreciated. 
> 
> And in walks a blast from my OC's past...yes, another OC...and the plot thickens. Yay!

A room full of lavender clones greeted him on his way to meet with the Empath scientists. He made triple sure his uptight, gray haired colleague wasn't following him. He was a bigger asshole than that sentimental worm, William T. Spears, but they both had their uses in the grand scheme of things. The scheming reaper adjusted his golden spectacles, thinking to himself how nice it would be to take one of the clones home for his own _personal_ use. "Too risky," he said to himself, his long, black pony tail swaying back and forth as he shook his head. At last, one of the scientists he had been searching for came into view. Unlike his other subordinates, he knew when Empaths were lying, which is why _he_ decided to take charge of the cloning project himself without anyone else's knowledge, let alone approval. Only one other reaper had a slight idea of the secret project, and he had ways of keeping him in check. "Too easy," the black haired man snickered.

A set of glowing emeralds cast themselves in the direction of approaching footsteps. "Sir, we weren't expecting you for another three days, but no matter, the serum is synthesized."

The black haired reaper smirked. "Please, Emily, you know we're on a first name basis as long as that blue eyed pervert isn't around. Besides, I only wish to speak with you. After all, you're the only one who does the real work around here." A flash of lust illuminated his chartreuse eyes as he gave the object of his affection the once over. "Don't bother summoning that piece of shit until I leave."

"As you wish," the female Empath complied.

"Where is that piece of shit fraud who insists on calling himself 'Doc'?" The reaper's tone darkened considerably with each word of inquiry. "I'm just curious."

"In the control room, running data for testing. He has succeeded in rendering the clones free of independent thought."

"Is that so?" A crooked grin crept its way over the reaper's lips as he pulled the green eyed female closer to him. "I suppose the bastard is useful after all. It's too bad. I was on my way to kill him, too." He brushed a stray tendril of white out of the female's face. "It's a good thing I have a kink for exotic women or I would have tired of you a long time ago. Albinism in your race is so strange, it never ceases to amaze me. Your eyes retain their pigment while the rest of your body lacks it. We share the same trait in our two races, you know, but yours...it's just so different somehow."

"I'm flattered," the female replied with a subtle glow in her green eyes. "It's a good thing I have a penchant for exotic men, especially those who deal in death," she whispered, lightly tugging the delicate chains connecting the loop in his earlobe to the one in the shell of his left ear.

"You always know how to get what you want out of me, but today we haven't the time, my dear," the reaper purred between kisses down the woman's neck.

"That's right, the serum...it's ready for use," she breathed, pulling away before things went any further.

The high ranking manager cleared his throat as he gathered his bearings. "Are you sure it will subdue 'The Prototype'?"

"I am positive based on blood analysis reserved from the eugenics project," the female replied curtly.

"Be warned, Emily, 'The Prototype' is evolving. Here are the most recent reports regarding her activities. Adjust the formula's dosage as necessary," the black haired male ordered, handing the files to the female eugenicist. "Tell that scumfuck when you see him." The reaper began to exit the room, but turned back. "I have a meeting to attend. Entertain me later on, hm?"

From the corner of her eye, the woman could see her peer approaching from the opposite side of the room. "Yes, sir," she replied in her best interpretation of subordination.

xxxxxx

"Grell, I have to find Grell," the female Empath muttered to herself as she frantically searched the Great Library for said reaper. Upon spotting her at the entrance, she ran to greet the reaper in red. "Miss Sutcliff! Miss Sutcliff!"

The red reaper turned around at hearing the sound of her name. "Emily? I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"

"I'm well," the Empath replied, grabbing the reaper's hands with a wide smile. She leaned forward and whispered, "Make sure this gets to whomever is caring for little Stella."

The redhead slipped a small envelope the scientist covertly placed in her hand into her coat pocket. "Stella?"

"January, 'The Prototype'. I, too, am a Rarity, and here against my will. I have no time to explain. The Ikiryo will remember me, but I doubt Stella will. I did care for the Ikiryo when it first arrived prior to Stella's fusion with it. Anyway, let's pretend to converse normally before we arouse suspicion." The reaper nodded. "Have you received a promotion yet?"

"Not really, but I am mentoring someone," the redhead replied with a sharp toothed grin. "He's kinda cute, too. I think he might have a crush on me, but we'll keep that between us girls."

"That'll be our little secret. No boys allowed." The albino scientist giggled with the red reaper. "Well, that's great. I'm happy to see that you're moving on nicely, Grell. I wish we had more time to spend together as friends." The Empath beamed. "I must be off now. We both have our respective duties to return to." The scientist drew the feminine reaper into a fierce embrace. "Remember what I said, and do it on your next reaping. Be discreet and do _not_ read it. The contents are only for the eyes of Stella's caretaker. I deeply appreciate your help, Grell."

"I want this to end as much as you do, Emily," the red reaper replied.

"You see a part of you in her, don't you?" Red Death stiffened in the woman's tight embrace, the whispered truth hitting a secret nerve. "It's ok, I understand, and I'll keep this between us girls, too." The redhead relaxed at the reassurance from the scientist. "We all have our secrets. Some are dirtier than others, but not as filthy as mine." The woman let the red reaper free herself from the tight hug and forced a smile. "It was good seeing you. Goodbye, Grell."

"It was lovely to see you, too!" the red reaper called after her old friend with feigned cheer.

The pretty red reaper rushed off and did the eugenicist's bidding without anyone the wiser on her next night's watch. Even her subordinate was totally unaware of the covert slip of a small envelope under a crack in a certain shop's front door.

xxxxxx

As the mortician emerged from the back room after having made the most recent guest-a hollowed out corpse-beautiful for what it's worth, he noticed a small envelope lying near the front door. A nervous pit formed deep within his stomach. He knew it had something to do with his Lovely and hoped it wasn't her writing to tell him goodbye. He was still quite fearful of losing her after the way he overreacted the night before. He slowly opened the envelope and unfolded the paper within.

*Now would be a good time to have my glasses.*

He read and reread the contents of the letter he held close to his face. What it contained was just as gut wrenching had his fair haired lover left him, if not, more so. He read the letter again to make sure his blurry vision and his mind were making the same connection regarding the contents of the horrifying letter.

_To Whom It May Concern,_

__

_I hope this letter reached you safely. This is a warning. A covert project has been in the works since the latter stages of the eugenics program. It is known as Project 0. Two dozen clones of 'The Prototype' (aka January) have been built and are currently awaiting fusion with the Will of the Ikiryo. I have been forced to develop serums to subdue 'The Prototype' for different phases of the cloning project, however, I am secretly working on counteragents to said serums._

__

__

__

_A reaper in upper management, Martin Gaines, is in charge of this project. It is my belief that this is not just for demon eradication. I am sure of the fact that he wants to use 'The Prototype' as a weapon for the rest of her life in exchange for Adrian Crevan's death. To my knowledge, no other reapers are aware of the project, including others in upper management or higher up. I assure you the conspiracy runs deeper than just having Mr. Crevan put to death or demon eradication. It is my opinion that Mr. Gaines started this project out of sheer boredom, and to him, all things are just toys to be played with. Unfortunately, I lack hard evidence to back up my claim._

__

__

__

_Please, whoever you are, guard and keep January well. We are well aware of her evolution. It is not a result of the eugenics project. I do not wish to see this young lady tortured anymore. I'm sorry that I cannot be of any help directly. Please, destroy this letter upon reading it so that no harm may befall any of us._

__

_Yours in gratitude,_

_E._

The mortician crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the stove. He stared blankly into the flames as the paper turned to ash and dropped between the chunks of wood piled within the fat, metal appliance. Numb. He felt numb.

*What am I going to do?*

The sick bastards cloned his Lovely and for what purpose? To start another war, and this time follow through?

*Envy. He's always envied me.*

He knew what part of her they wanted and he wasn't going to let them have her.

"They won't take what's mine," the legend growled.


	18. Root

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
> 
> Thanks for stopping by and reading my wonderful fic. It's much appreciated. Sorry it's been a long time since the last update. I haven't been feeling well lately.  
> So, to make up for my absence, I bring you an oddity laced with sexy time with trichophilia on top. Admit it, Undertaker's hair is gorgeous. *swoon*  
> The brief theological discussion contained within chapter is slightly blasphemous in nature and may offend those of you who may be religious. Remember my OC is coming from a different culture. ***You have been warned.***  
> Enjoy!

An unexpected visit from the Earl and his demonic butler caught the mortician slightly off guard. The investigation of the "suspicious suicides" leaving their gruesome mark in the back alleys of London was still ongoing as they had started to move out to more open places. The deaths of the six nobles, however, was declared closed due to the discovery of their atrocious crimes committed before succumbing to their own suspicious exits from this world. According to the one eyed brat, the Queen didn't want scandal to arise amongst the ranks of the social elite due to the ghastly nature of the boys' deeds.

*Just like the Queen, high and mighty, looking down her nose at everyone else. I can't wait to make her all pretty for her special day. Heehee.*

Unfortunately, the investigation was baffling the poor, young Earl. Even his perceptive pet demon was at a loss on the case as the suicides followed no discernible pattern, no distinct targets were selected, no one place was specific in the alleys, all were indiscriminately dead. Now, the bizarre, grotesque deaths were moving out in the open, garnering the attention of witnesses in one case. A rumor spread among the working class that a vengeful spirit was on the loose, however, the stuffy pair could never get a corroborative answer from the witnesses regarding the so-called "vengeful spirit's" description, so they gave up the search for it.

Though the "vengeful spirit" was mere feet from them, the red eyed butler still couldn't sense her hiding in the shadows, black eyes trained on him and the boy, ready to destroy them with a single macabre thought. She gave not a care about her lover's feelings for the little Lord. She would kill him without hesitation, without mercy, without regret, without fear along with his starving demon butler all at once. No matter how many times he warned the boy, he still couldn't get it through his head that the boy's soul was long gone. He was demon soup now, and there was nothing in the world the reaper could do about it. From the shadows, the angry contrast watched and waited with twin black eyes patiently glaring down at the scene below.

The price of prime laughter was paid by the manzai humor stylings of the "hilarious" butler, which never failed to amuse the silver haired mortician. As always, the little Earl didn't understand the comedy routine.

*I wonder if that demon sucked the sense of humor out of the boy or if he was simply born without one?*

In his usual cryptic manner, the mortician delivered a limited amount of information to the demon and his dinner, frustrating the little one eyed kid to no end. The hidden Rarity nearly gave herself away when she had to hold in an oncoming burst of laughter from the noble's strained temper tantrum, which always seemed to amuse his butler. The female took her leave of the trio as they resumed their little tiff about the spoiled brat's soul with inwardly rolling eyes. It was a holy day for her and she went to the one place where she could be alone in prayer.

The silver haired man was more than relieved when the irritating duo finally took their leave of him. The unexpected visit from them was just too much for him on this particular day, so he decided to close up shop early. When he was absolutely sure they were gone, he flipped his sign to "closed" and locked the doors behind him. The reaper knew his lover had been watching from the shadows, but she had somehow vanished again without him knowing. "I wonder where my Lovely could be?" he pondered aloud in an amused voice as he puttered about the shop looking for his lady love.

xxxxxx

The reaper found her alone in the darkness of his basement praying in a dead language. The tattooed Rarity was unaware of his presence or at least she was doing an excellent job at pretending she was. As she continued to pray, he came to the realization that many of the "dead" languages share a common ancient root. He remembered the ancient language that was discarded long ago when reapers adopted the native tongues of the souls they reaped. He remembered her telling him that only Rarities were taught the ancient ways, including language, as they were the Choicest Fruit of the Goddess...

xxxxxx

_"What do you mean by Choicest Fruit, Lovely?" the legend asked with curious wonder in his phosphorescent eyes while he drifted soft kisses down the Empath's neck and up again until their lips met in a soft kiss._

_"It's nothing sexual if that's what you're implying," the lavender female replied. "Depending on who you ask, Judeo-Christian faith puts 'choicest fruit' in a sexual context in the 'Song of Solomon' as a metaphor for the hidden place. Many faiths who worship primarily male deities-alone or as part of their pantheon-also use the phrase in a sexual context, more often than not, with only exception being the 'Hail Mary' prayer. Though, the prayer has the closest non sexualized meaning of 'Choicest Fruit' in the Christian faith, it is still inaccurate as it describes giving birth to a child of the False One. The one true meaning of Choicest Fruit is decreed by the Goddess, and it was She who exalted Rarities above all others. It is clear to you now that my people are monotheistic and worship a female deity, so our vices and virtues differ greatly from those who worship the False One."_

_"You mean the Divine, or God as humans call Him?" the mortician questioned._

_"Precisely. I am also very well aware that they feel the same about the Goddess." Mismatched eyes flashed with hidden zealotry._

_The mortician nuzzled his cheek on the girl's head. "Go on," he encouraged with a kiss to her temple._

_"We, Rarities, that is, are versed in the ancient language of our people from the age of one, and sacred temple rites from the age of three. The Goddess' Sacred Words are taught to us the day we are brought to temple onward. All Rarities are biologically female, yet we possess attributes of both genders, hence the mismatched eyes. We're born sterile, and as a trade off, have life spans that stretch to near immortality, the freedom to choose any mate of any gender or race, or to completely abstain from mate selection. Technically, social laws still apply to us since the whole of our realm became more secular than it was in years past, but we easily live above them, and no one dares defy us for fear of incurring the Goddess' Divine Wrath. All Rarities are devoted to the Goddess, even the one who claimed a demon as her own." The female grinned proudly at her remark._

_"Yes, or perhaps the demon loved her in return, my dear," the reaper said with a knowing grin. He hooked an arm around the weapon's tiny waist and held her tightly against him, letting his free hand travel the contours of her petite body. "Just as I love you," he whispered as his nails lightly slid down his lover's throat, across her clavicle, and back up again. ___

xxxxxx

The legend remembered that night well. He shook the distracting thoughts from his head and continued focusing on the praying woman in the darkness. He could recognize some words in the melodic chant since they shared the same root as his long dead language from eons past. The legendary reaper listened closely to her soft, enchanting voice praying in the captivating chant. He was only able to discern something in regards to "forgiveness", "accepting Her Bastard Children as they are neither demon nor are they Death."

*She must be referring to Yurei.* 

"Coexisting and merging"..."evolving"..."Her Bastard Child is One with the Choicest Fruit and has freely learned love"... 

*Herself...the fruition of the eugenics project.* 

..."Legendary Death"..."prototype, ex nihilo, Adrian Crevan"..."True Death"..."of Legendary Beauty"... 

*Heehee...even with all these scars.* 

..."We are One"..."never sever"... 

*Us?* 

The female abruptly stood up, catching the reaper by surprise. He shrank as far back in the shadows as he could, hoping he hadn't been seen. She turned away from him, hair whirling outward like silky lavender banners, and began a new slow, monotone chant. She repeated the same rhythmic words over again, growing slightly louder in volume each time, and with each new round a layer of clothing was shed. By the fifth recitation, she was standing completely nude in the dark basement, chanting unrecognizable words while the mortician watched the numbers on her tattooed clock align themselves to their correct positions as the hands set themselves to the appointed hour upon the divine light emanating from the blue gray eye. The clock face blinked, sending the frozen skeletons on the small of her back into a mirthful, deadly dance as her chanting grew louder. 

*The _Danse Macabre_ * 

The lavender Rarity opened her eyes, flooding the room with bright blue and green light. She tipped her head back, chanting the unrecognizable words at an absurdly loud volume and began levitating. 

*That's not a prayer, it's an incantation.* 

Something resembling an inhuman howl, a scream 

*Hers?* 

muffled within, and a soothing voice whispering ancient words of love, wisdom, and vengeance emanated from the lavender light flowing into the petite. As sudden as the communing started, it stopped. The woman remained suspended in midair a moment longer in the stillness, then fell to the basement floor with a soft thud. Ordinarily, the silver reaper would have prevented her from falling, but in this case, he wasn't sure if his intrusion on this blessed event would anger the girl until he noticed her barely breathing and motionless on the cold ground. 

*To hell with this. I'll incur her wrath later.* 

The reaper rushed out of the shadows and carried the Rarity upstairs to their shared room, hoping she was unharmed by her ritual. Her back felt like flames in his arms, and he found himself wondering just how the hell did she get the back piece anyway. 

=I know you were there, Legendary Death.= 

xxxxxx

"How are you feeling, Lovely?" the silver legend asked as he slid his nails through lavender tresses.

The female moaned lowly. "Much better since you're doing _that._ Mmm...I love your wonderful nails." She leaned her head back as the reaper licked and nibbled her throat. "Have you noticed we spend more time together with our clothes off than we do with our clothes on? By no means am I complaining. If I had my way, I'd keep you naked all day."

 

"I don't see how that's a problem," the distracted reaper mumbled, working his teasing mouth down to the Rarity's breasts.

She squeaked at the unexpected contact and grabbed a handful of silver. "D-don't you think it would be a little disturbing to make your guests beautiful in the nude?" 

Piercing green eyes met hers. "I almost forgot, I do have a job. Hehehe." 

"You ass! You're a madman, you know that!" the female teased, pulling her silver love into a deep, passionate kiss. 

"So I've been told. I want to braid your hair," the mortician purred, his lips lightly brushing the side of her neck. He sunk his fingers deep into the weapon's abundant lavender tresses, grazing her sensitive scalp with long, ebony talons. "You are positively delectable, my Lovely." His long fingers knotted themselves in lavender roots, eliciting a pleasured yelp from winter weaponry. "Such perfect beauty," he murmured against her lips. 

"Oh Goddess, Adrian," the bare winter sighed as her scar adorned lover feathered his nails over the naked expanse of her back. Her small body arched into his, flesh on flesh, delicate fingers wove themselves through thick silver as she stole the reaper's lips in a fire inspiring kiss. "Make me beautiful, Adrian. Give me something fit for a queen." 

"A queen is a lowly peasant compared to you, my dear." The mortician trailed soft kisses down her neck and in between her breasts. She giggled softly at the wispy feel of silver strands dancing on her thighs. "Ticklish, are we?" A devilish grin crept over the reaper's face as he suddenly turned the girl around, pinning her back against him. He plunged his long fingers into the experiment's lavender locks, relishing the feeling of it sliding between his fingers. He nuzzled his face in her hair, deeply inhaling the scent of mimosa blossoms. The silver haired reaper was fully aroused by the way the weapon's plentiful lavender locks splayed out over her petite frame. "You are mine, Lovely," he purred as his skilled hands wove a lattice work of lavender at the crown of his lover's head, leaving the rest wild and free from the tapering point down the center of her back. 

*She truly is exalted above all others. _My_ Perfect Beauty.* 

The reaper's soft kisses slowly traveled from her shoulder up the side of her neck where it lingered just behind her right ear, mercilessly teasing her. A tumbler in the Rarity's secret place turned in its lock as the mortician smoothly caressed her skin, lightly running his ebony talons over the feminine contours of her body. Ever the perfect gentleman, he remained mindful of the violent marring of flesh on her inner thighs and refrained from touching them without her consent. "I want you, Lovely," the silver reaper purred darkly, pulling the female closer against him. 

"I know, and I want you, Adrian," the lavender haired woman replied. She could feel his want making itself known as he held her closer. 

"Stella, I want _all_ of you. I want to take you as you have taken me," Silver Death softly insisted in his seductive, dark, velvet voice the Rarity found almost as entrancing as his acidic eyes. "That is, if you will permit me." He nuzzled the lavender lady's neck awaiting her answer. 

A new, different glow took over her mismatched eyes as she slowly nodded her consent to surrender herself to the reaper. 

"Are you sure, Lovely?" 

"I am. Just don't..." she trailed off. 

~Don't harm me.~ 

"I know," he replied, sealing the promise with a kiss. "Whatever you wish, I shall do, my love." 

The shy weapon turned to face her silver love, a strange glow emanating from her strange eyes. "Take me as I am," she said softly with averted eyes. 

The legend cupped her face in his hands, the strange captivating innocence brought back an old memory he forced himself to forget. 

_"One day, Fate will bring us together again..."_

"Such strange eyes, my love. The most beautiful, perfect eyes I've ever seen, my lovely one. You have such a strange, alluring innocence that I've seen before from your eyes, but I can't remember when exactly it was that I saw it. It's almost as if you were trying to tell me something you, yourself didn't understand." The mesmerized legend's heart skipped a beat when his mate delicately traced the scar across his face. "Oh gods, Stella, I love you, my perfect beauty." 

"Adrian, I've always been told my eyes are strange by your kind, and always by the ancients. Why?" 

"That's a secret," the enchanted reaper stated, taking his Lovely into his arms in a gentle kiss. "I want to take you as you are, my love, not as you were engineered to be. You are a Rarity, a treasure, my treasure." With that, he curled one arm around the Rarity's waist and let the other travel up the tattooed length of her back, trailing black talons along the way until his spindly fingers nestled themselves in her lavender locks. The petite's obsession ignited as she lost her small arms beneath a waterfall of silver, twining delicate fingers in at the roots as their lips collided in a passionate kiss that was special only to them. 

The lavender lady hadn't realized she'd been maneuvered onto her back until she opened her brightly glowing eyes to find herself staring up at a pair of piercing green reaper's eyes. The owner of those stunning eyes caressed her pale cheek with such tenderness and care. "I love you, Stella," the man surrounding them in a curtain of silver whispered. All she could do was nod in response with wide, glowing eyes. For some reason, the way he looked at her combined with his tender touch made her feel as though her innocence had never been lost. The reaper seemed understanding of her wide eyed silence as a warm smile graced his lips. Before she knew it, the legend descended upon her in the sweetest kiss she had ever experienced, literally taking her breath away. 

"Lovely, you might want to breathe now. Out of the both of us, I'm the only one who can live without doing so. Hehehe." 

Once again, the weapon could only nod in wide eyed silence and release the breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Adrian...I...I want you," the flustered woman breathed. 

Always more than happy to oblige, the mortician chuckled and captured his mate's lips in another euphoric kiss while letting a clawed hand explore the contours of her body. Next, his lips followed by his teeth in soft kisses and nibbles along the woman's neck drew pleasured purrs until he got to his favorite spot. As he sank his sharp teeth into that certain spot on her neck, he sank into her, truly claiming her as his own. He moved slowly at first, softly caressing her legs as he drew them up to his chest. The Rarity's eyes fluttered closed, translucent skin glowed over mismatched eyes. "Adrian..." the lavender winter breathed. A pleasured yelp escaped her as her lover gradually let his hunger take control, that certain piercing unlocking her secret places in a delightfully imaginative way. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around the silver reaper and arched her body up as if to take back control. She gasped and her eyes opened wide to the phosphorescent hunger of the legendary reaper pinning her to the bed by the wrists. Her wide, glowing eyes were trapped in his possessive gaze. His long fingers laced through hers, refusing to give up control. 

"You are mine, Lovely," the reaper growled. 

Lavender ice cried out in ecstasy as her silver lover tantalized her senses with soft touches contrasting with the relentless power of his approaching climax. The weapon's eyes lit up like solar flares as she shrieked her lover's name while he mercilessly snapped his hips, unlocking her secret places. "What am I to you?" the mortician growled. He snapped his hips at just the right angle, unlocking the secrets to her secret places. 

"Oh Goddess! Adrian" the reaper's lover screamed. "You are mine!" 

"What are you to me?" His piercing eyes bored into hers, trapping her like prey. The silver reaper's clawed fingers laced through hers once again as he stared at her with his hypnotic eyes. It was just the two of them behind a curtain of silver, and nothing else in all of existence mattered. The female was literally lost in her lover's eyes. Her glow was soft, but strangely bright, pupils dilated, and the trapped gaze willingly unmoving. Aside from the luminosity, the look in her eyes was identical to souls throwing themselves at him for the reaping. "What are you to me, Lovely?" he repeated, his dark, velvet voice ghosting over her parted lips. The softness of his voice played the hero to the villainous power fueling the snapping of his hips. 

"I-I..." Her eyes widened as she gasped when that certain piercing found another delightful way to unlock her secret places. "I am yours!" she called out, tensing her whole body as the silver legend became the key to unlocking all of her secrets. "I am yours." 

A predatory grin spread over the reaper's lips and an animalistic possessiveness gleamed in his electric eyes that was frighteningly alluring. "You are _mine,_ Stella," he growled as he descended upon his favorite spot on her neck, feeding the girl's secret hunger with his sharp bites and kisses. 

"I love you, Adrian," the euphoria hazed Rarity whispered. 

"As I love you." And with a feral growl, Legendary Death's claim on his Rarity was complete. 

xxxxxx

"Adrian, why were you spying on me?" the petite inquired shakily in an effort to regain control of her senses.

"Hehe. I was looking for you, my love. I noticed that your native language and the ancient language of my kind share a common root." The silver haired man paused, seemingly lost in thought. "I'm the only one that's been around long enough to remember a language long dead unless some of the other fossils kept up their knowledge. Hehe." He shrugged slightly. "The way you speak your native language has always captivated me, my dear. It was not my intention to intrude, I assure you." The reaper moved his bangs out of his eyes and turned his companion's face toward his. "If I meant any offense, then I ask my Lovely's forgiveness." 

~Eyes. Breathtaking, beautiful eyes that never lie.~ 

The Aurora Borealis glowed against dark skies of the deadly ice storm as she stared, transfixed by the legend's stunning eyes. "O-ok..." she quietly stuttered. "Were you afraid?" 

"Yes, at the end," the silver haired man admitted. "You were barely conscious, your skin was burning up, especially your back. It was like touching fire. I couldn't leave you down there alone, so I brought you up here." She turned around again to face him. "I never want to lose you," the reaper whispered, sounding as if he was on the verge of tears. He held the dead of winter in a loving embrace and affectionately nuzzled her cheek with his. "I love you so much, Stella." He ran his hand through broken lavender lattice work. "My dear, all that work only to be destroyed by our lovemaking." 

"It was worth it," the Rarity snickered as the mortician deftly deconstructed lavender lattice work. She stole a quick kiss as his nails grazed her scalp. "I love your wonderful nails." She leaned into the mortician as he efficiently picked lavender locks. He tilted her head up, stealing a quick kiss from her, using it as an excuse to weave a braid identical to his in his lavender love's long, pastel tresses. That look of the purest form of devotion borne of a love so deep no force known or unknown could sever it stared down at the lavender petite's strange innocence within softly bright glowing eyes. It was that look that always made her heart stop. "I love you so much, my Perfect Beauty." 

"We will never sever, Adrian," the painted snow vowed. "No matter what, we will never sever." She kissed the reaper sweetly and lightly ran her fingers over the thin, lavender plait. "I don't have to see it to know it's beautiful." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy time brought to you by Nero. "My Eyes" is a fitting song for that scene.  
> Also, if Undertaker dedicated a song to my OC, it would be "Cult" by Skinny Puppy. I fucking love Skinny Puppy.


	19. Circling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts/communication =
> 
> Sorry it's been a while. I just had a birthday, and I was doing my celebratory birthday ritual of being a complete lazy ass. Anyway, thanks for the reads and kudos.  
> So, who's ready for a *tiny* glimpse into the emotional turmoil of William T. Spears? *evil grin*  
> Enjoy!

Loneliness was his Achilles heel. The Rarity recalled how close he was to breaking down at the thought of losing her and once again being condemned to a life of loneliness. Each loss he endured stripped away part of his sanity one layer at a time, and it was she who kept that last bit of it from escaping his grasp. The reaper knew she was mortal, but was ecstatic when he learned of her extremely long lifespan. She looked down at her slumbering lover with a soft, contented glow in her mismatched eyes. Reapers were well known for their possessive natures, but his was different. To him, she wasn't property or a prize to be won, nor was she an object, rather she was a treasure

~His treasure.~

that was too precious to be stolen and too powerful to be locked away. Incidentally, she felt the same way about him without the need for a possessive nature as it was simply not the way of her people.

The legend stirred in his sleep, a contented smile plastered to his scarred face. The experiment's eyes roamed the reaper's body, indulging in the lean musculature, long limbs, random placement of scars, various array of piercings, long fingers tipped by onyx talons,

~Oh my Goddess! Those wonderful nails!~

the perfectly angled planes of his face, his long silver hair, and those piercing green eyes. She could abandon everything and live in them for all eternity. Some women would be put off by the mortician's never ending affection, but, as a Rarity, she thrived on it. She had been starved of the affection her kind need for most of her life, and to lose his...That was her remaining fear, her Achilles heel. To lose him would mean starvation, and after all she'd been through, she refused to starve again. She combed shaggy silver from the sleeping man's face nestled on her lap, recalling their gluttonous indulgence with each other throughout the night and into the morning. She bent down and softly kissed her lover's lips. "We will never sever, Adrian," the vow reaffirmed softly into the kiss.

A clawed hand gently cupped the female's cheek. "No, we won't, Lovely," the mortician mumbled sleepily, returning the kiss.

xxxxxx

"You fucking pervert! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" the enraged female shrieked at her fellow Empath. "Those aren't for your personal use. If the boss finds you fucking around with the clones, we're both dead!"

"Can it, Emily!" the frustrated male huffed as he yanked his trousers back on without bothering to clean himself up first. "I didn't fuck it, per se." He smirked at the lavender clone as he cleaned off its hand with a moist cloth. "It was just getting to know me a bit better, if you get my drift." Wheezing chuckles escaped the eugenicist.

"Still, _Carlton,_ you're going to ruin the whole project because you can't keep your dick in your pants," the female protested.

Menacing blue eyes glowed at the green eyed accuser. "What did I tell you about using my real name, Emily?"

The abnormally tall female Empath stood toe to toe with the shorter male with an intimidating green glow in her eyes. "I'll start calling you 'Doc' when you earn the title. Until then, you're a fraud since I'm the only one here with legitimate credentials, and you don't have your Goddess forsaken goons here anymore to cover your sorry ass. I've had enough of your bullshit for a thousand lifetimes. Let's wrap this shit up and leave." The albino's green eyes blazed maliciously at the other Empath. "Seriously, it's ridiculous having to deal with your perversion."

For the first time in all the years they had worked together, the blue eyed Empath felt genuinely intimidated by his green eyed colleague. The furious, green glow in her eyes meant business. In fact, she was all business. Getting her to smile or laugh was like rendering blood from a turnip. On second thought, the possibility of a bleeding turnip popping into existence was far more likely than a ghost of a ghost of a smile gracing the albino's sharp features. Even the stern Dispatch manager managed to show a ghostly smirk a couple of times in the past. The blue eyed pervert conceded to his coworker's demand for the time being and kept the meeting strictly business. "Any changes with my pretty prototype, eh, Emily?"

The female eugenicist narrowed her eyes in cold suspicion at the other. "Aside from her evolution, none worth reporting, however, the rate of her evolution is unknown as it was not an intent of the eugenics project."

"I see. So, this Yurei we fused her with not only merged with her consciousness, it merged with her as a whole." Blue eyes lit up with cruel intentions. "How delightful! Now that I have so many blank slates to play with. Oh, this will be such a fun time! So many toys!"

"Fuck you, Carlton. Let's stay focused," the female huffed in annoyance. "I have already synthesized enough serum to subdue her. If my feeling is correct, 'The Prototype's' power will continue to grow exponentially. We must capture her now while I have potent enough serum on hand. If we continue to wait, the serum will be useless no matter how high the dosage. We must inform Mr. Gaines that enough serum has been produced to subdue her with some to spare."

The male tapped his chin in thought. "Very well. _You_ meet with the boss and tell him we're ready."

xxxxxx

There was still no change in plans, Undertaker was still up for execution. His black haired superior was more smug than ever, and their gray haired superior, colder and harsher than ever, but something seemed off about his response as he glared poisonous wrath at both subordinates.

_If I had my way, I'd have all of you reaped for what you've done. Nevertheless, the decision is final._

"Spears, it's time to stop being so sentimental. There's nothing you can do about it. That legendary deserter isn't going to be pardoned. I _know_ how you _really_ feel about Crevan. It's written all over your face," the smug manager pressed the irritated man wielding pruning shears. "It runs even deeper than admiration, doesn't it?"

"Where did Hesse get that?" the red faced manager huffed, desperately trying to change subjects.

"Oh, the ear piercing? I'm surprised you haven't noticed it after all these years," the pony tailed manager chuckled. _"She_ gave it to him, and he's never removed it even after losing _her._ I'd be careful to never mention loss around him, Spears. It would be most entertaining to see that little guy tear you limb from limb, but I still need you around, so just obey your orders."

"Yes, sir," the lower ranked manager replied curtly as the higher ranking male casually exited the room.

"You know, _she_ was really special to him, and when he lost _her,_ he lost his passion for everything. Only his bloodlust remains, but you know what they say about us fossils as we age," the black haired reaper smirked smugly. "Get the fuck out of here and do your job. Bring me 'The Prototype'," the high ranking reaper ordered from the open doorway, laughing at his bowing subordinate.

The irate manager stormed out of the conference room under orders to inform his team of field agents that "The Prototype" had to be captured and brought to a secure location within twenty-four hours or there would be dire consequences for himself and his team. The uptight man was not one to throw away his career even if it meant saving the life of the legendary reaper and man he more than just idolized. His black haired superior was right, his feelings for the silver haired man ran far deeper than admiration no matter how much he outwardly denied it. His desperate pleas to prevent the legend's execution spoke volumes coming from him. Had it been coming from someone like Sutcliff or Knox, not a single eyebrow would be raised, but from him, William T. Spears? That just didn't happen. No. It. Just. Did. Not. Happen. The irritating noise his gloves made as he squeezed the pole of his Death Scythe led to a chain reaction of grit teeth and a twitching eyebrow as the gray haired reaper's words echoed in his head once again.

_If I had my way, I'd have all of you reaped for what you have done..._

The pruner wielder briskly strode into his office without acknowledging his secretary and slammed the door shut behind him, startling the four reapers waiting inside. Cutting to the chase, the manager inquired of the foursome in an almost accusatory tone if they had found the rogue yet, to which all four reapers answered in the negative. The day shift handed in the only honest reports, whereas the night shift handed in a shadowed version of the truth. The manager placed a small metal case on his desk. "Let's get to the point, agents. I have just been informed that 'The Prototype' is evolving at an alarming rate, therefore, it is of the utmost urgency that it be brought back to our realm alive along with Undertaker within twenty-four hours. Failure to do so will result in dire consequences for all of us."

"What do you mean by 'dire consequences', Spears-senpai?" asked the confused young trainee.

"I am not privy to that information, Knox. I was simply informed that punishment will be severe."

"Oh."

"Now then, a serum has been developed to subdue 'The Prototype," the black haired reaper stated matter of factly as he opened the metal box. A syringe loaded with red liquid and a spare vial filled with the same solution was securely tucked inside. "It will render 'The Prototype' temporarily powerless. Depending on how much it has evolved, the serum may render it unconscious, but will not kill it."

"What about Undertaker, Mr. Spears?" the mousy haired reaper asked. "According to our observations he is extremely devoted to her-"

"They're extremely devoted to each other, Al," the tall blond interrupted.

"Yes, Eric's right. Undertaker and 'The Prototype' are extremely devoted to each other. He will not hesitate to kill anyone who harms her. It was no ordinary mate selection between the two of them, sir."

The manager glared at the frail intelligence officer across the desk from him. "Explain to us what you mean, Humphries, and I suggest that you be specific. May I remind you that its kind have a singular belief in a goddess, and many of its kind are prone to fanaticism."

"Will, she hasn't shown any signs of fanaticism," the red reaper stated. "It would be in the reports."

"I'm not accusing it of fanaticism, Sutcliff!" the irritated man snapped. "Mr. Humphries, please explain yourself."

The petite reaper nervously glanced at his coworkers and scowling boss. "Thank you for your insight, Mr. Spears," he began. "What I was meaning to say regarding Undertaker claiming her as his mate is that it is the Will of the Higher Up. I'm sure if you were to ask 'The Prototype', she'd attribute it to whatever goddess she believes in while Undertaker would simply agree with us."

"No, he would say it was Fate," the redhead mused. "He's all too aware of their differences, but wise enough to know there are other possibilities. And it's not just because he's supposedly blindly devoted to her either."

"Sutcliff!"

"No, senpai is right," the mowing reaper jumped in. "She feels the same way about him; that Fate brought them together."

The others nodded in agreement.

"Aye, boss," the tall blond affirmed. "With that out in the open, it begs the question: how do we get Undertaker to come with us when we take his lady?"

The manager inwardly smirked as he absorbed his subordinates' input. "We don't. He'll follow once he finds out that thing is missing."

"Aye, divide and conquer. Good idea, boss." The Scotsman smirked.

The manager closed the metal case on his desk. "Slingby, Humphries, I will be accompanying you on your shift for obvious reasons. Knox, Sutcliff, both of you are dismissed until required." All five reapers stood and exited the office. "I believe we each have our respective duties to attend. Debriefing will occur precisely at 8:30 pm unless otherwise specified. Do _NOT_ be late!" With that, the manager turned on his heel and marched down the corridor with the terminally ill reaper and his rugged lover following close behind.

"I think he meant you, senpai," the short blond grumbled when the trio was out of earshot.

"Fuck you, Ronnie." Both reapers chuckled, attempting to suppress the feeling of dread washing over them in ever increasing waves. All they could do was futilely hope the fair haired couple could somehow escape before it was too late.

xxxxxx

A feeling of dread knotted in the pit of the weapon's stomach. The mortician was immersed with guests today, none of which were her work. She sensed three reapers approaching the shop's general vicinity, but still remaining at a safe distance. Only one of them was familiar to her, whereas the other two were not.

~One of them is terminally ill.~

=Dying Death is infected with Thorns. Scottish Death harbors within him secret souls in a most futile attempt to save Dying Death. Unknowingly cruel to prolong the inevitable. Dying Death will succumb.=

The familiar reaper the experiment sensed was one she never wanted see again. Her body visibly shuddered in fear as her mind unconsciously reached out to her mate's at the thought of the reaper who regarded her as nothing other than a repulsive object while she was trapped inside the living hell of the eugenics program; the reaper who showed no remorse for the grave sins he committed against her, nor did he show compassion even once for the same grave sins others committed against her; the reaper who mercilessly killed her guardian and only father figure she had ever known, and coldly stared at his Cinematic Records while quietly lambasting him for his alleged treason while she and her dead lover were forced to watch; the same cold, cruel bastard that blamed her for...

The mortician held the lady in black in a comforting embrace. "Lovely, what's wrong?" he asked so softly her eyes inadvertently glowed the way they did that day. He looked down at her, his piercing eyes brimming with compassion.

~William T. Spears.~

The experiment buried her face in the legend's chest, holding him tight, and let her pent up pain and sadness from a past she desperately yearned to forget fall like a torrential rain from her mismatched eyes. The silver haired man carried her to a nearby coffin and sat down with the petite curled up in his lap, crying and muttering strange, fearful phrases in the language of her people. It had been many months since she'd broken down out of fear, yet the silver reaper was there, showing the same devotion to her without question, without complaint, without fail. She, of course, would do the same for him, or die trying.

"I don't want to go back there," the winter weapon whimpered.

"I know, Lovely," the mortician replied, sliding black nails through lavender silk. "I'll protect you, but if for _any_ reason you are taken from me, I will find you and I will bring you back. You are mine, and I love you so much. I want you to be safe and happy."

"Adrian, the time is approaching. When my Hour strikes, I want you to reap me. I don't care who you have to kill, I want you alone to do it," the Rarity's sadness grew ominous with her request.

The reaper balked at his lover's request. "You're merged with an Ikiryo, Lovely. Not even I have the power to break that kind of bond."

"I will find a way, my love. The Goddess revealed a great many things to me," she said solemnly. "I never want you to be lonely. I always want you to have the love and understanding of someone who can appreciate you for what you do and who you are. I'm glad I could be that One until the End comes." The Rarity took his hands in hers and looked him straight in the eyes, the strange innocence softly glowing from bright, emerald and sapphire eyes. 

*Now I remember where I've seen that light...over and over, but I remember now!*

"Adrian, we will never sever. No matter what. We. Will. Never. Sever. I love you." The female lowered her head, blushing sheepishly. "I suppose, in a way, I always have."

The silver reaper lifted the blushing Rarity's head up, his acidic eyes locking on to her brilliant jewels set in darkness. "Fate brought us together, Lovely. I've seen you many times since the day I retired, and always with the same strange, beautiful, innocent hunger glowing in your eyes. Do you understand what you were trying to tell me since that day?"

"The same thing you told me: 'One day, fate will bring us together.' In Hell, that assurance began to lose its meaning as I lost hope that I would soon see the next day, let alone that One." Delicate fingers twirled the little silver braid absently as glistening tears returned with quiet vengeance. "You aren't angry with me?"

"How could I be? I am just as guilty as forgetting certain things, too. It's funny how Fate works, isn't it?" The mortician affectionately nuzzled the lavender ice. "Don't cry anymore, Lovely. You know it breaks my heart to see you cry."

"Tell me I'm not an object, Adrian."

"Lovely, you're always a woman to me, and never an object. You are my treasure, not my toy. You are my Perfect Beauty, not a prized possession. You are you, my love, it's your heart that belongs to me until you decide to walk away," the silver haired mortician softly reassured.

"Thank you. You have no idea how much those words mean to me, and that you have always been so devoted. I don't have other words to describe it in my language. We are One as She intended and happy as we intended." The experimental beauty smiled at her silver love and kissed him with the sweet gentleness that always made his ancient heart skip several beats.

Outside, unbeknownst to their intended targets, three reapers were circling, closing in on the dark mortuary, like hungry sharks preparing to attack while the two lovers inside had their guards down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am such a tease. 
> 
> If I had my way, I'd hit William in the face with his Death Scythe because he's mean to Grell all the time. Then I'd give Grell a hug and braid her hair. Grell is so pretty! *squee*


	20. Stolen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts/communication =  
> Emily's innermost thoughts +
> 
> Thanks for reading, and my apologies for the slow updates. I'm currently working on the first draft to the multi chap follow up to this story as well as jumping into some one shots for the series that have yet to be completed because I wind up going back to the multi chap, so it's been hectic.
> 
> *clears throat* This chapter contains suicide via mind control, references to past sexual abuse, and major character death. ***You have been warned***  
> So, who's ready to see more tiny cracks appear in William T. Spears' shell? The ever so tiny cracks, they are there. You just have to know where to look.

The rogue female snuck into the darkened lab while her perverted colleague was out doing who knows what with their boss. Two dozen unconscious clones of war were securely held in place by magnetized bonds to their respective chambers while various machines monitored their vital signs. Their mismatched eyes didn't glow beneath their pale eyelids the way an authentic Rarity's did. The disgusted scientist had a small window of time to work while the security cameras reset themselves.

"No time to admire the forgeries," she mumbled.

With swiftness and efficiency exceeding that of a demon's, the green eyed scientist injected a clear liquid into each clone's IV bag and slipped out of the darkened room without a trace with mere seconds to spare before the cameras completed the reset cycle. The Empath casually walked back to her work station after inconspicuously disposing of all evidence linking her to the sabotage of Project 0. A smug smirk morphed into a sad smile on the double agent's face as she looked fondly at an old photograph of a tiny girl with glowing eyes and lavender hair. A tall man dressed in leather with a long dark braid and circular wire frame glasses held the brightly smiling girl and her green haired companion.

+Marcus, you bastard reaper, I miss you.+

The man in the picture took in the girls in an effort to save them, but to save her...

+My eye. I knew before all of it started. It was like so long ago with her when she was slain by the bastard with the sharp sword, but she and I will never sever. I warned Marcus, but he didn't heed me.+ 

The eugenicist snapped the watch face closed, hiding the memory for a little while longer, and resumed mixing the formulas needed to subdue and extract the Ikiryo. "All I have to do is take a little bit of the Formless One and send it to those fucking frauds. It will be poison to them, and they will be destroyed. There is only one Conduit." The albino female grimaced as she glanced at her watch. "Shit, ten minutes til lock down." She hastily gathered the required materials for reversing all the harm done over the past forty some odd years to take with her to the makeshift laboratory in her small apartment as she cleaned up her work station. The time had finally come for the albino female to begin serving her penance by way of vengeance.

+May the Goddess forgive my wrongdoings.+

xxxxxx

The mortician returned to his task of dressing up a recent murder victim. If it hadn't been for the overwhelming number of guests showing up at his front door, he'd have more time to devote to his icy beauty than he'd already allotted. Aside from his humming and shuffling about, he noticed the shop was pretty quiet, but figured that his Lovely got bored and went upstairs to their room on account of his heavy workload. Unbeknownst to him, the female vanished from within the shop to face off against the three surrounding reapers that she sensed earlier that morning.

xxxxxx

=Thorns=

The petite reaper screamed in agony as his illness came to life within his body. Blood trickled down his arms, dripping to the rooftop below his feet as the fabric of his suit ripped beneath the spiny protrusions escaping from their prison of flesh. The others were powerless to come to his aid as they were trapped in mid air by the lady in black's sheer will power. Her darkened pits bored straight into the small reaper; her voice, dark, melodic, and disturbingly sensual as it sliced through his subconscious.

~Your lover harbors impure souls. You think your so called neutrality makes you an arbiter of purity? You have eyes that lie. Your compassion is a lie. It exists because you will die. Your beautiful molten gold and grass green eyes lie.~

=Thorns.=

"Eric!" the sickly reaper shrieked, holding out a desperate hand to his reaper lover. "Oh God! What's happening to me?" Terrified shrieks rang out as he gaped at the growing, spiny protrusions, twisting their way out of their host's arm. He lifted his other arm to inspect it for confirmation of the truth, and indeed, he was literally being torn apart by the Thorns of Death.

"Alan, hold on! It'll be ok!" the thorny reaper's lover desperately called back.

~No, it won't, liar. You built his hopes up on a myth. A pure soul is one that doesn't exist among humans.~

"I suppose you're so pure, then, aren't ya?" the Scotsman angrily retorted.

~I am as the Goddess determines me to be.~

=Thorns.=

Flesh ripped apart, blood flowed freely as the twisting thorns dramatically increased in size. The shredded reaper's howling agony turned into pleas of mercy.

=THORNS!=

The thorny spikes twisted hard and fast, leaving the mousy haired reaper a mangled mess on the cusp of death.

~I show no mercy to those who objectify me. I show no mercy to those who take what belongs to me. If you think you deserve mercy, then you know what you must do.~

Getting the hint, the petite reaper summoned his Death Scythe, and with what little strength he had left, impaled himself.

"No! Alan! No!" the burly Scotsman screamed. "What the hell are ya doin' ya crazy bitch?"

=Consume.=

~How does it feel to believe a myth as though it were fact? How does it feel to betray your own race? To act as a demon; to act as a thief of souls?

=Consume.=

~How does it feel to betray the only one who ever loved you unconditionally? Your cruelty prolonged his suffering. That is no way to treat a lover.~ The petite's dark, airy voice sliced through the tall blond's head like a razor blade.

Tears sprung to the burly man's face. "Alan," he whimpered. "I-I didn't know it was a myth."

=Consume.=

~Beautiful sunny yellow and forest green eyes that lie to the world around you. The souls within you consume you from the inside out, seeking freedom from their host with the eyes that lie.~

=Consume.=

The cold experiment looked beside the devastated reaper slowly being consumed by the trapped souls within and into the cold, cruel eyes of his boss.

~William T. Spears, we meet again, you filthy piece of shit. _You_ stole everything from me. _You_ wronged me. It was _you_ who made me feel shame when those of my race don't know that feeling. There's no word for it in our language, but _you_ managed to break me. _You_ marred me with _your_ violence, you vile son of a bitch! _Your_ eyes lie! Your _ugly_ eyes spew hatred and lies!~

"I most certainly did not touch a vile creature like you," the manager stated coldly.

"Yes you did! You stabbed me with that strange weapon in your hand over and over again next to my hidden place in the summer of my seventeenth year!" the Rarity yelled. Her otherworldly accent clearly irritated the chronically irate manager even more as she hurled more accusations at him. "You and those sick fucks dared to defile me? I am a Rarity. I am Her Choicest Fruit. You are shit compared to me. All of you are shit compared to me. The Goddess will have Her vengeance."

=Consume.=

"Boss?" the blond looked at him with pained eyes, weeping blood, questioning the girl's claim.

The unstable weapon's dark, airy voice made a quick stab into the slowly dying reaper's mind. ~Let them go.~

Somehow, understanding what the Rarity meant, the male summoned his hacksaw and plunged it into his liquefying insides, giving birth to more Bastard Children of the Goddess, and reuniting with his lover in the next world.

The lavender haired woman's intense focus stayed on the stern, pruner wielding, son of a bitch in front of her. The only thing that mattered to her was his death. She would kill him for Marcus, for Mae, for the other Rarities, for her mate, for her lost world, for the Goddess, but most of all for herself. "You did this to me, William T. Spears!" the lavender project shouted in blinding rage. "You took the only father I've ever known! You knew all the other Rarities were being raped and tortured since we were little girls, but you only looked down on us as if we were repulsive garbage! You stabbed me over and over again with your hideous weapon! You enjoyed every second of it! I could sense how your lying eyes betrayed your neutral mask. You made me your object, you tortured me! You knew! You blamed me for-"

The manager's hidden rage was close to exposing itself as the experiment got closer to revealing the truth, however, he couldn't deny the charges put forth so far. "I did no such thing!" he roared, abruptly cutting off the petite's laundry list of sins committed against her. Forcing himself to contain his pent up murderous thirst for revenge, the black haired reaper lowered his voice to a cold, dead calm as he discreetly removed the syringe from the metal box. "Marcus Jones was not your father. In fact, it was Undertaker who murdered Marcus," the uptight reaper brazenly lied.

The petite glowered at the stoic liar. "How stupid do you think I am? My memory wasn't erased you lying sack of _demon shit._ I know what I saw," the female growled. "Marcus was like a father to me, and it was _YOU_ who stole him, it was _YOU_ who killed him, not my Adrian!"

A ghost of a smirk appeared on the stoic reaper's face. "Oh, so, you flattered him into telling you his real name?"

The Rarity's blackened eyes narrowed on their target. "Fate. We are One. I belong to him as he belongs to me just as the Goddess intended. I am _not_ his object."

"How do you know he's not lying to you?" the emotionless man questioned, trying to replant seeds of doubt in the woman's heart. "Despite being the most possessive out of all the reapers in existence, he does have a reputation of leading people on with promises of love and affection, then discarding them when he's bored."

"Because, out of all of your race, he has beautiful eyes that never lie. Out of all of your race, you have filthy, ugly, lying eyes. To speak cruel words of a man you adore. Not only are you a murderer, you're the worst kind of liar!" The lady in black leaped at the black haired reaper, intent on ending him herself, but a sharp pain radiated in her abdomen and spread throughout her body. Her glowing blue and green eyes reappeared, then dulled before fluttering shut in a haze of unconsciousness.

~ADRIAN!~

The stone faced reaper hoisted the lavender haired petite over his shoulder and phased out of the mortal realm. Someone would need to pick up what was left of his two subordinates before a fuss was raised, but for now, the main objective had been achieved.

xxxxxx

The mortician finally finished prepping the last body for the day. He still had other guests that needed looking after, but their needs weren't as urgent as the several he had prettied up today. He was exhausted and sorely missed the company of his lover.

*It's been so quiet.*

He had heard yelling and commotion outside, but chocked it up to being on the less pleasant side of London. One gets used to that sort of thing every day. "I wonder where my Lovely could be hiding? Ehehehe." The silver haired man grinned as he ascended the staircase in search of his lavender lover.

~ADRIAN!~

Her voice pierced his thoughts, then quickly evaporated.

*Lovely?*

The silver reaper had a sick feeling that something terrible happened to the Rarity as he raced up the rear set of stairs leading to the rooftop. "Stella?" Two mangled reapers laid out on the roof, impaled by their own Death Scythes. What was left of the blond was putrid flesh, clinging to brittle bones, and beside him, his lover, a bloody thorn bush, accented by little bits of flesh and bone. The scent of a third reaper lingered in the air, but he was nowhere in sight, nor was his Lovely. A glint of silver caught the mortician's eye. Upon closer examination, he recognized the object as a syringe, but not one of his. This particular model was much too advanced compared to his metal and glass syringes. His acid green eyes went wide beneath his bangs in realization of what just happened.

*The son of a bitch took her. She fought them, but _that_ son of a bitch took her.*

Wide eyes narrowed into an enraged glare as the legend summoned his Death Scythe. A haunting, malicious grin made its home on the legendary reaper's face. "No one takes what's mine. Ever." Legendary Death laughed maniacally as he phased out of the mortal realm, prepared to show anyone who kept his mate from him the meaning of true brutality.

*No one takes _my_ Lovely from me and lives.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Eric and Alan fans.


	21. Scorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> Emily's innermost thoughts +
> 
> Thanks for taking a look at my super sexy gorefest. Yay! Much appreciated.  
> This chapter contains itty bitty tiny spoilers for my upcoming multi chap. References to rape and sexual abuse are also contained in the chapter. ***You have been warned.***  
> Enjoy!

The black haired reaper glared at his subordinates sitting across from him in his office. He drummed his fingers on his desk, searching for the right words to say regarding their fallen comrades. Adjusting his glasses, he calmly began, "Agents Sutcliff and Knox, the 'Prototype' has successfully been captured and is now in a secure location. Unfortunately, Agents Slingby and Humphries met their ends fighting that monster." The manager clenched his jaw at the mention of the prototype. "As you both are well aware by now, their records will not be collectable. I shall be making my report to upper management presently. As of now, you are no longer needed on this case. If there are no further questions, you are dismissed. First, make sure you turn in your final field reports regarding this case before resuming your normal duties as scheduled. Remember, this case is highly classified, and you are to speak of it to no one else." The manager narrowed his eyes at his two remaining subordinates as he gave them the stern warning. "If word gets out, I'll know who to blame, and there will be harsh punishment."

"Spears-senpai," the two toned reaper hesitantly spoke. "Are Sutcliff-senpai and I supposed to go collect the bodies?"

"No, Mr. Knox, I've already seen to it personally," the Dispatch manager replied coolly.

"So, Will~iam, did our darling 'Prototype' put up a good fight against you, too?" the redhead purred with fake flirtatiousness as she flipped her long, blood red mane over her shoulder. "And do tell me where it was she fought the three of you." Her catlike eyes shone with bloodlust as she donned a wide, razor sharp grin.

The irritated reaper pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sutcliff, you have truly perverse taste. Honestly."

"C'mon, William, tell me. Pleeeeaaasssseee, Will. I want to know." The red reaper pouted and batted her long, red lashes, almost overdoing her flirty act.

"Fine, if it will shut you up and get you out of here sooner." The raven haired reaper adjusted his glasses with an exasperated sigh. "It sensed us at Undertaker's shop and fought us on the roof. It dove for me, but I used the serum provided and knocked it out before any harm befell me. That is all I will divulge."

"Spears-senpai, are you saying she tried to _physically_ attack you? Why?" the shocked blond inquired.

"Knox, I'm saying it tried to kill me as an act of revenge. That thing thinks I'm responsible for its past traumas, which I'm obviously not or else we wouldn't be having this discussion," the harsh reaper lied.

Red Death dropped the flirtatious act. "Oh, so that's how it happened. How boring," she said nonchalantly as she rose from her seat, toxic green eyes glaring at her boss, conveying the message that she knew he was blatantly lying. "I'll have the paperwork finished within the hour, I suppose." With that, she left the office without waiting for her superior's rebuttal.

"I'll get right on my paperwork, too, Spears-senpai," the junior said nervously when he met his superior's hard glare.

"Then get to it, Knox! Have it completed without error on my desk within one hour. Any tardiness will result in demotion for you and Sutcliff. Be sure to remind him of that fact. Dismissed!" the stoic reaper barked.

"Yes, Spears-senpai, I'll let Sutcliff-senpai know," the blond called over his shoulder as he hurried out of his tyrant boss' office.

xxxxxx

"He's lying, Ronnie," the feminine reaper stated flatly as she and her subordinate finished their case reports.

"About what, senpai?" the junior agent gave his superior a curious look.

"About his role in the project, and especially about January. He knew she was being abused and raped. He even...gods, it makes me sick to think about it to this day...just remembering what I saw him do to her..." She looked up at her subordinate. "You know how Will is abusive with me, and I sit there and take it, right?"

"Yeah, but you can easily overpower Spears-senpai," the blond pointed out.

"That's true, I can rip him apart with my bare hands in my sleep. I've seen January take on a horde of demons by herself with ease. I heard rumors that she tore an archangel apart under her own power without the aid of the Ikiryo, and all with a single thought. But Will broke her. The difference between her and I is that she submitted completely for the sake of her lover. Will hasn't broken me, nor will he ever. I just like fucking with his head, but the things he did to that girl..."

"Are you saying he _touched_ her?" the young reaper asked with disgusted shock building up inside him.

"Let's leave it at that," the reaper in red responded coolly.

Her subordinate stared in stunned disbelief at hearing the revelation. He knew his boss was involved with overseeing part of the eugenics program decades ago, but was completely unaware of his partaking of any of the perverse cruelty meted out on the biological weapons below the catacombs. The junior reaper looked up to the stoic man, but now, having found out just how depraved he was under that clean cut, professional image he portrayed, made the young man sick. How could a man who is such a stickler for the rules just stand by and allow little girls to grow up being routinely abused until death and look the other way? Why? Because they're from another realm? "Why, senpai? That's not the boss I know," the blond questioned.

"I still haven't figured it out myself, Ronnie."

"H-how do you know about this?"

Red Death looked her subordinate square in the eye. "I reaped May's soul. All of them were treated the same way. Some worse than others, but essentially the same. There was a problem with May's record, though. Everything with January in it was missing. It's like she had been severed from her memory at the moment of death," the redhead bitterly recalled. "The point is, Ronnie, Will was involved in the worst way, and I don't blame January for trying to kill him."

"I hope 'Taker finds her soon," the young reaper anxiously stated.

"I do too." The lady in red glanced at the clock. "Goodness, we need to get this paperwork turned in. I won't have my precious chainsaw taken away from me again."

"Wait, senpai!" the blond called, stopping the redhead to catch up to her in the hallway. "Are you saying that lady's records were somehow tampered with?"

"That's _exactly_ what I'm saying, Ronnie," she replied as they continued their brisk walk to their boss' office. "I don't know why or how, but May's records were the only ones that were tampered. The connection to all of this is January. We know they were lovers, and prior to that, were close friends since early childhood."

"How does that even happen where only one set of records out of all the others is tampered with?"

"I don't know, and I doubt that even Unnie knows." The red reaper lowered her voice as they approached the manager's office. "We keep this between us, Ronnie. I'm not sure if January remembers why she's missing from May's records."

"You mean-"

"Shhh..."

xxxxxx

_Mesmerizing green eyes looked deep into hers, holding her frozen in motion like trapped prey in the predator's sight. Long black nails grazed the flesh of her thigh as she wrapped her legs around the silver haired man unlocking her secret places. "Oh Goddess, I love you, Adrian," she murmured in bliss, eyes glowing beneath translucent lids. She opened her eyes, to behold her lover's stunning eyes once more, but he was gone._

xxxxxx

"I love you, Adrian," a mocking male voice wheezed. "Tch. What a pathetic joke as always, eh, my pretty? Heh, heh."

The experiment looked around in a groggy haze. Had she been dreaming? Is she still dreaming? She didn't know. She had a vague sense of where she was, but couldn't be sure. She recognized the voice and hoping it was one of her nightmares of the past attempting to creep into the present, she reluctantly decided to interact with the owner of said voice.

"Where am I?" the restrained woman slurred in a drug induced haze.

The perverted Empath leered at the female. "Why, you're at home where you belong, my dear," he drawled, sniffing a lock of her hair. "Doesn't it feel gooooooddd to be back home, my pretty? Hm?"

~Don't remember Undertaker's basement this bright. How did a pervert sneak in? Home?~

"Am I back at 'Taker's shop? Where is he? I want him," the groggy female demanded.

The blue eyed man pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled. "No, you're not 'back at 'Taker's shop.' You belong here with us, your own kind, and in this lab, you stupid cow!" The angry bigot yanked the girl by the collar of her dress, intending to pull her up to his eye level. In his anger, he had forgotten about restraining her and tore the front of her dress, exposing the scar on her neck from Death's claim upon her. "What the fuck is this? You have a reaper for a mate?"

The weapon nodded with enough clarity to understand the question as a small smile crept over her lips. "Legendary Death," she mused. "I am his." Tears sprung to her eyes as she felt a hard slap to her face.

"You stupid bitch! You're no better than the other cunt who left our realm for a demon! You fucking Rarities are filthy trash. You think you're hot shit because the Goddess favors you. Fuck you! There is no Goddess! If you're so blessed and powerful, why are _you_ the one strapped to this table?" The male backhanded her across the face, followed by repeated blows to the abdomen.

~How dare you scorn the Goddess! Blasphemer!~

"You little bitch!" The male moved to backhand the abused female once more when the laboratory door opened, announcing the entry of his female associate and the black haired reaper overseeing the project. The girl's whimper in anticipation of being hit piqued the reaper's interest in the activities transpiring in the room. Glowing blue eyes blazed at the female strapped to the exam table. "You damn whore," he seethed through grit teeth. "Now look what you've done. Boss' gonna think I've touched ya, and I'm gonna be in a mess of trouble because you can't keep your fucking mouth shut."

The imposing reaper strolled into the room with the female Empath silently following behind. She glanced at the experiment with a sorrowful look, then returned to impassively observing the interaction between the glaring reaper and her defiant peer. 

"Did you touch her?" the black haired man accused. The eugenicist remained silent. "Did you touch her?" the reaper repeated, chartreuse eyes flashing a warning of imminent death.

"Not in the way you're accusing me of, _sir," ___the blue eyed abuser replied bitterly. Both males stared each other down, eyes blazing maliciously. "Go on, ask her yourself if you don't believe me."

"Mr. Gaines, sir, please put that away," the female politely demanded when the high ranking manager summoned his Death Scythe. She laced her fingers through his free hand and looked up at him, her green eyes taking on a soft glow. "Please withdraw," she softly requested, cupping his cheek with her other hand. "There's no harm in asking January herself." The green glow held the reaper's dilating, chartreuse eyes with a certain hypnotic intensity, rendering him unable to avert his gaze. "Please, Martin," she whispered so softly only he could hear. "Don't you want to ask her yourself?" The question ghosted over the reaper's lips. Nodding slowly, the hypnotized reaper banished his scythe. "Thank you," the albino whispered in gratitude as she placed a chaste kiss on the mesmerized reaper's lips. 

"I have no idea how you do that, but for some reason I don't want you to stop. Could that be the difference, I wonder?" the dazed reaper asked from another place.

"That's a secret," the green eyed woman replied, breaking eye contact.

The male immediately snapped out of his lusty daze as soon as the albino woman looked away. After gathering his bearings for a moment, he stalked over to the other male and jerked him into the air by the lapels of his dingy, white lab coat. "Your claim had better check out, you little pervert, or I'll reap you where you stand." His evilly toxic eyes flashed an intent to kill as he growled out his threat to the smaller man. "You piece of shit!" He snarled and tossed the other across the room, knocking over instrument trays as a result. The reaper paid no mind as he sauntered over to the examination table to inspect the restrained prototype. A smile appeared on the black haired reaper's face as he approached the restrained Rarity. "Hello, Stella, do you remember me?"

"How do you know my name?" the lavender haired woman demanded hoarsely.

"Oh, I know _a lot_ of things about you. I'm hurt that you don't remember me after the long history we had together here. No matter. That's not what I'm here to discuss. I want to know if that little pervert touched you inappropriately. I believe it's high time he's held accountable for his perversion, don't you think, beautiful?" The high ranking reaper inspected the lavender winter's bloodied face. "It seems you have a broken cheekbone, but it's healing perfectly. The speed is astonishingly fast. Impressive if I do say so myself. Quite an improvement. Emily, hand me something to clean her face with."

The lavender weapon began to speak, but winced in pain as the imposing reaper dabbed at the wounds. "So, my dear, did 'Doc' _touch_ you?" the reaper repeated as he took a seat at the foot of the exam table.

"No, not in a perverse manner. He hit me, broke my dress, and scorned the Goddess. He should be put to death for his blasphemy against the Goddess! He dared to insult Rarities and speak ill of our lifestyle, and especially of who I chose as a mate." The Rarity's eyes blazed with furious zealotry. 

"I'm happy to know that he didn't...molest you, my dear," the black haired man said smoothly. "Why should he care about who your mate is? It's not like he's staked a claim on you."

"It's outside of our race. Why do _you_ care?" Scorn laced her hoarse inquiry.

"I'm just curious about what my property has been up to for the past few years, and since you're not going anywhere for a long time, I just want to make polite conversation," he replied with a shrug.

"I am not property," the woman growled. "I don't know you, yet you keep claiming you know me, and you have the audacity to say I'm your property. I am no one's toy, no one's object, no one's prize, no one's possession, no one's property. I already have a mate, dammit. I know you know who, but you're taunting me. You just want to hear me say it. Out of your entire race, he's the only one with eyes that never lie. You try to look like him, but you fail. He's mine and I am his: Legendary Death."

"Ironic you should mention him, considering he's the most possessive, powerful, and violent of our kind," the black haired reaper mused. "How does he treat you?"

"Like I've always wanted to be treated."

A black pony tail swayed to and fro as the high ranking manager strolled to the head of the table. "Eyes that never lie, you say?" he inquired, reaching out to stroke her cheek. She flinched, expecting to be hit. "I'm not going to hit you, my dear. I'm not in the habit of abusing beautiful women," he cooed, softly stroking her cheek with his fingertips. His soft fingertips trailed down her neck and peeled back the dress' torn collar, exposing her mate's claim on her. The male dipped his fingertip in the indention above her collarbone. "It's true, then. You belong to Adrian Crevan," the male sighed. "He was the only one out of all of us who was created. You know, he used to be a flawless beauty before he got all those scars. How sad it is that he sacrificed such a perfect countenance just to hang on to a Death Scythe." The man's black pony tail bobbed as he shook his head. "Ah, his braid." The reaper's fingers twirled the long, thin lavender plait identical to her lover's. "He is indeed a _very_ possessive man. Tell me, when you laid eyes on him with all those scars, did you find him attractive? Did you think that his blemished flesh was perfect? Do you think a dangerously insane man like him is flawless?" The reaper's eyes flashed with scorned envy as he further questioned the Rarity. "Did you have any idea what kind of man you were getting involved with when you let him claim you?"

"You're wrong! You have eyes that lie! Adrian is flawless with his scars. They are beautiful. He is brutality. He is True Death. He is the One the Goddess intended for me. You say he is violent, but he's always so gentle with me no matter what I've done to him. He makes me beautiful...With him, I'm a woman, not property, a prize to be won, and especially not an object. I'm his treasure." Tears slipped down her face as she longed for her silver love. "Where is he? What did you do with him? I demand to know! He's mine, dammit! You can't steal what's mine!" The lavender haired female screamed and thrashed as much as she could within her restraints. "Where is he?" Mismatched eyes glared at the black haired reaper. "Stop looking at me as if you know me and bring me Adrian! I want him now! You have eyes that lie, Evil One!"

The reaper signaled the green eyed scientist to administer a sedative to the psychotic woman. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be along any minute now, beautiful. Just be patient." His once placid and friendly smile grew into a fiercely sinister grin with his mocking words as she faded into unconsciousness. "Emily, extract it, but first, get the 'Prototype' into something more appropriate for our needs. And you," he pointed at the blue eyed pervert. "Get the hell out of here. You're goddamn lucky your story checked out, but that doesn't mean I still won't reap your sorry ass where you stand. Now, get the fuck out!" The male Empath stomped out of the room muttering epithets against reapers and Empaths mating as he went, slamming the door behind him. "Piece of shit," the reaper sneered. The scientist was almost finished putting the thin, white cotton gown on the experiment by the time the black haired male returned to the exam table. "You made quick work of the weapon," he commented.

"I've had well over forty years of practice, so it becomes routine," she replied dryly. "I will not cut her hair. It is blasphemy to cut a Rarity's hair. Furthermore, it's blasphemous to alter a Rarity's hair without her consent."

The high ranking manager helped the eugenicist finish restraining the winter weapon. "I wasn't planning to cut its hair. Without the overabundance of lavender stuff sprouting from her head, those strange, oversized eyes would be far less alluring, don't you think? She would look quite deformed. Ha, even with all the hair, Spears seems to think the thing's deformed anyway. I'm actually a little hurt that she forgot about me. No matter, it's not like I was Prince Charming or anything," he said with a bitter laugh. "Emily, I'll need you to extract just enough of the Ikiryo's Will to distribute amongst the clones evenly without disrupting the 'Prototype's' power level. We may need her for more testing on the clones later on. That fuckhead fraud claims he rendered the clones free of independent thought, but I have my doubts about them remaining so once the Ikiryo is introduced. If all works out as planned, we destroy the 'Prototype'," the reaper ordered.

The green eyed female pushed the feelings of dread aside for the time being.

+I can't believe how long I've let this go on. Then again, I had no control over how long all of this would play out. I feel like such a whore, but it's the Will of the Goddess that Stella lives to fulfill the Sacred Prophecy.+

"Yes, sir," she said as she jotted down his orders on a clipboard.

"Emily, we're alone now. No more faux formalities."

The albino turned on the subtle intense green glow as she looked up at her "superior", trapping him again in her hypnotic gaze. "Will there be anything else...Martin?" she purred, glowing green locking onto dilating chartreuse.

"I have no idea what you're doing, but keep doing it. It's a great way to skip the foreplay, don't you think?" the reaper mused from another place.

"So like you, Martin. Always down to business," the albino quipped.

"You like it." The reaper's chartreuse eyes lit up with lust. 

"You're right, I do," the woman said in a sultry voice.

"What is it with you? You always know how to get what you want out of me."

"You have a kink for albinos," she replied, trailing her fingers down the male's throat, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt without breaking her gaze.

"Oh shit, you're...This is why I keep you around." His eyes went wide as he was shoved up against the door by the unusually tall female Empath who waged a full assault against his dominance. For once, he let it happen, and enjoyed the moment. "Gods, Emily, don't stop what it is you're doing to me," he quietly begged.

"Let's take this somewhere a little more private. I have something I'd like to extract from you," the albino scientist purred. The spellbound reaper nodded slowly, submitting to her whims.

xxxxxx

A silver rampage was striking the reaper realm. A precious treasure had been stolen from Legendary Death and he'd kill anyone who dared to stand in his way. Furious hunter's eyes darted back and forth as he tried desperately to seek out the thieves who stole his Lovely. The legendary crescent blade of his Death Scythe was stained with the blood of his own people, but he was a possessive man, and it was his people who stole his special treasure from him. The thought of harm coming to his strange eyed beauty fueled his rage, motivating him to move faster in search for her. Despite the wrath burning from within, the legendary reaper still kept himself open to her, and only to her.

 

*My Lovely, I am here. I promised if you were taken from me for _any_ reason, I would find you and bring you back. I am a man of my word. I am looking for you, and I will find you, my Perfect Beauty.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who else liked the tiny peeks into William's emotional turmoil in the last couple of chapters? Mmmmm...such a tasty appetizer. You'll have to wait for the main course. Like Sebastian with Ciel's soul, I'm preparing it with the best quality ingredients for all to savor, and cooking it slowly to let the flavor dance succulently on the taste buds.


	22. Carnage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts/communication =  
> Emily's innermost thoughts +
> 
> Thanks for reading and kudos. Do they even make that snack anymore? I never see it around. Anyway, sorry it's been a while. I'm still busting my ass on my first draft for my follow up to this story.  
> This chapter has gore and contains a tiny spoiler to my follow up story. ***You have been warned***  
> Who's ready for another itty bitty peek into William's boiling emotional turmoil. Mind you, it's just a tiny peek. Get out your microscopes.  
> Enjoy.

The female reapers in General Affairs trembled in fear at the enraged legend laying waste to everything in his path. At some point before entering the reaper realm, the silver haired man pared down to his innermost layers and rid himself of his treasured hat, effectively giving anyone who looked a glimpse of the righteous fury in his eyes. "Is that the same guy from the statue in the library?" one lady whispered to her coworker who slowly nodded in response while keeping her terrified eyes fixed on the gorgeous, wild beast approaching their work station. His eyes seemed to soften with every step he took, but there was no mistaking the madness and wrath dwelling within his legendary hunter's gaze.

*Reapers fearing the reaper. Such sweet irony.*

A doe eyed blond was frozen in place by the legend's hypnotic eyes. Dilated pupils spelled fear when she caught sight of the bloodied Death Scythe casually resting over his shoulder as he approached her place behind the counter. A long, black fingernail poked her cheek, drawing her attention to the significantly taller man standing in front of her. She opened her mouth to say something-anything-to the legendary reaper, but could only muster a tiny squeak.

"Where is she?" the madman inquired in a dark, intimidating, calm voice laced with possessive devotion through a menacing grin.

"I-I don't know who you're talking about," the blond reaper fearfully stammered.

"I think you do," the mortician accused in a deadly sadistic tone as he slashed his Death Scythe through the counters in General Affairs without regard to anyone within range of the massive blade. Several ladies avoided his slashing blade altogether while others sustained minor injuries. The unfortunate blond at the counter was sliced in half from shoulder to hip, staining her colleagues red with her blood. Wrath, hatred, loneliness, loss, unfathomable sadness, wrapped in a box of utter madness, and tied with a pretty ribbon of absolute love and extreme, fanatical devotion cast a horrifying, ethereal glow from eyes that never lie as the reaper stalked like a predator over the debris, his weight crushing what was left of the blond beneath him, in his single minded determination to retrieve what was rightfully his. It is well known, and absolutely true, that he is a violent man, and combined with his possessiveness, he will not hesitate to kill anyone-man, woman, child, beast, anything with a pulse-or destroy anything that takes what belongs to him. 

A brunette spoke up out of the group of frightened females. "Sir," she began in feigned fearlessness. "Please tell me who you are looking for so that I may be of better assistance to you."

The male swung his blade in a deadly arc, narrowly avoiding decapitating the female as she ducked in the nick of time. Her coworkers cowered in fear, however, she remained standing and fearless (at least on the surface). "Where is my Lovely?" he growled, holding his scythe to the female's throat. "I want what's mine returned to me."

"You have claimed her?" the General Affairs worker asked.

"She. Is. Mine." the silver reaper reiterated, quickly losing patience with the brunette. "She is _not_ a weapon, she is a _woman!_ I want her returned to me, now!" He pressed the scythe harder against the female's throat. A small sliver of blood trailed down the leading edge of the intimidating weapon and dripped down to the floor in slow, muted splashes. The cut wasn't fatal so far, but the madness in the mortician's electric eyes guaranteed nothing, whether or not he was given the correct answer. "I want what's mine returned to me," he repeated in a low, dead calm voice, darker than night.

A flash of memory from decades past entered the brunette's head at the legendary reaper's phrasing in reference to his mate. She remembered gossip about strangely brutal experiments happening below the catacombs. She wasn't sure what they were, but it didn't sound pleasant according to her sources who heard it from reapers in the secretarial pool who overheard a certain redhead whining about it with a strange looking albino outside the library. Even though she wasn't sure if the third hand rumors were true, she thought it couldn't hurt to direct the male to the source of the said gossip, however, she did fear his wrath should he return empty handed. Risking the silver haired reaper's wrath, she pointed in the direction of the library. "Catacombs," she whispered, taking care not to move too much, lest she cut her own throat on the crescent blade. The male slowly lowered his scythe from her neck and looked at her with angry, inquisitive eyes. "I heard rumors many years ago that there were experiments taking place somewhere beneath them. I'm not sure if they were true, but if they were..." the fearless brunette trailed off and a couple of tears quietly slipped down her face as she imagined what kind of horrors could have been taking place beneath the underground.

The silver reaper's soft spot for crying ladies brought him a moment of clarity as he banished his scythe and gave the brunette a brief hug. "Stop crying," he said softly. "You're aware of our natures as reapers." He lifted her head up with his finger, locking eyes with her. "There's no reason to be upset. I'm doing what I have to do." In an instant, his moment of clarity vanished. Pushing the brunette woman out of the way, he summoned his Death Scythe and headed in the direction of the library in a black and silver blur, leaving a trail of destruction and maniacal laughter in his wake.

xxxxxx

A sleeping weapon strapped to an exam table was a sore sight for the high ranking, gray haired reaper to see. The permanent glare of sadistic wrath that resided in his dark green and citrine eyes softened into a mixture of pity, regret, sadness, self loathing, nostalgia, and the purest form of love. Out of curiosity, he opened one of the unconscious Rarity's eyes, then the other to finally have his chance to see the visual aspect of the intended result of the eugenics project. "So beautiful," the gray haired reaper whispered as he let the dully glowing eye flutter shut. He knelt down next to the lavender haired woman, admiring her perpetual beauty. "I doubt you remember me anymore, but if you do, I don't blame you should you wish for my end. I still love you. I know you're none of the cruel things that the others say about you." He placed a slender hand over hers as a single rogue tear slipped down his face. "I'm glad you found the love you were searching for even though I could never be that One." The gray reaper briefly nuzzled her cheek with his and planted a delicate kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry, my beautiful love...for everything."

The gray reaper rose to his feet after easing his conscience in hushed whispers to the unconscious experiment laid out before him. A familiar piece of metal beckoned his hand to his left ear, and as always, the reaper gave in to the urge to run his fingers over the curved spike, which he often does when he thinks of _her_. Before his feelings overrode his principles, the gray haired senior manager settled back into his cocoon of cold, hard sadism as he exited the room.

xxxxxx

_"I could never get mine to grow that long," she said softly to her silver haired lover as she finished painting a fresh coat of black lacquer over his long nails. The Rarity looked down, admiring a job well done on her mortician's manicure. A smile lit up her face as the mortician's hand completely engulfed hers, taking care not to ruin the drying polish. "It's interesting how much bigger you are than me." She giggled and briefly glanced adoringly into his expressive eyes. She blushed madly when he did that thing with his eyes that she likes._

_"Maybe you're just too small," he teased, leaning in for a chaste kiss._

_"Shut up, you ass!" she playfully retorted._

_"Make me." His lips curled into a mischievous grin that was immediately captured by his lavender lady. Long fingers twined themselves into her hair, pulling hard enough to break the kiss. "I love you, Stella," the reaper whispered, drifting soft kisses down her neck and back up again, finally lingering on that certain spot behind her right ear. The Rarity thread her fingers through silver as he slowly rolled his tongue over the sensitive flesh, mercilessly teasing her. Then, for some reason, he bit her...hard causing her to gasp out his name in surprised dissatisfaction._

xxxxxx

The experiment slowly woke up to a pair of glowing forest green eyes staring down at her. "No, I'm Emily, but he'll be here soon. I gave you a counteragent to the shit I had to inject you with," the scientist hastily whispered while pretending to look her charge over.

+Tell me you remember me.+

=I am she. She is me. We are One. We remember you, Emily.=

~You let me have Mae?~

+Yes! Yes! I'm happy you remember something about me.+

=I preserved you for her sake.=

+I am grateful, Formless One.+

=It is necessary. We are One.=

The eugenicist produced a second needle and gave the girl a shot of bluish liquid in the bicep. "This is a gradual release stimulant. Right now this room is under surveillance, so do not respond verbally to me. I'll be brief. I need you to pretend that you're still unconscious. I'll do my best to keep watch over you while I disable the security system by which time the stimulant will have kicked in and you'll be completely alert. As soon as I'm done, I'll fetch you. Do you understand?"

The petite nodded and mouthed, "Where is he?"

"I don't know, but I do know he's coming for you," the green eyed Empath replied. "He's absolutely devoted to you. Treasure him as he does you. I must go now while I still have enough time. Now, do as I say. I'll free you when the time comes." The Rarity nodded, indicating that she understood. The other female put on a blank, impassive facade and gave a curt nod in approval. "Everything looks good so far. I'll be back later to check for any abnormalities."

+Pretending is too easy, but it's getting old.+

xxxxxx

"Senpai! Senpai! Is that 'Taker?" A distressed yellow haired reaper called out to his superior.

The red reaper rushed to her junior's side to get a look at what he was referring to. "Where, Ronnie?"

"Over there, heading into the library."

"Oh my sweet merciful Death! It is and he's lost his mind," the redhead confirmed as she beheld the carnage left in the mortician's wake. "Well, Ronnie, let's go see what this gorgeous madman is about to do."

xxxxxx

Silver fury became far deadlier than the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse and the Hell following after as he ventured further into the catacombs. Fanatical devotion to Perfect Beauty fueled his rage as he mowed down his brethren in one fell swoop of his deadly blade. He growled in frustration as a portly reaper got stuck writhing like a pathetic insect on the edge of his scythe. "Where is she?" the silver destroyer roared. "Where is my Lovely?" When all he received in reply were agonized howls of pain, the reaper violently swung his Death Scythe back and forth until the crescent blade tore free of its flesh and bone prison, splitting the portly reaper in half. The lower portion of his body dropped like a stone, spilling out his bowels while the top half sailed through the air dropping internal organs like bloody bombs until it crashed into a rough hewn wall several yards away. The legend didn't bother sticking around to hear other panicked reapers call for backup, nor did he care. His mind was set on one thing, and one thing only as he made his way deeper into the catacombs in search of his special treasure.

An unfamiliar set of steel double doors built into the bowels of the catacombs greeted the silver haired man as he came to a stop at what used to be a dead end.

*The woman in General Affairs must be right. These doors weren't here when I was still active.*

The sound of an approaching security team was behind him and his Lovely was somewhere beyond those ominous steel double doors. Curiosity turned to murderous fury as the security team barked out orders for the legendary reaper to stand down. "I don't think that's possible," the silver reaper stated in absolute, deadly calmness. "You see, I'm here to retrieve a very special treasure _who_ was stolen from me." A snarling grin overtook the madman's scarred face as he readied his wicked Death Scythe for the inevitable fight with the security team. His phosphorescent eyes scrutinized his prey as his grin grew more menacing. "How pathetic!" He cackled at the standard issued scythes distributed to the security team. Suddenly, the mortician's tone became darker than the bottomless pits of Hell,

*NO ONE KEEPS HER FROM ME!*

his hypnotic eyes burned with rabid, unquenchable fury manifesting a toxic glow of a revenge driven nocturnal predator. "I'll show you why I'm known as Legendary Death." His menacing grin grew wider. "I'm in the mood for a little rabbit hunt. Shall we?" With that, he leaped from the ground, swinging his Death Scythe in one deadly, horizontal motion, taking out several of the security agents at once not unlike the distant past when he took on entire demon hordes by himself.

With single minded determination, Legendary Death executed each reaper that dared to come between him and what was his. The metallic clangs of colliding Death Scythes were muted to his ears, the screams of his dying brethren were blatantly ignored as he showed them the meaning of True Death. The legendary scythe was an extension of the silver haired man, moving fluidly with him with each graceful and calculated motion. The lucky ones were dead before they hit the ground, eyes wide open, lifelessly staring at a body that used to be attached to the head housing the green and yellow lying eyes. On the other hand, the unlucky ones, laid prostrate before the legend begging for mercy from dismembered or disemboweled bodies. Ideally, Death is a release, but Legendary Death is brutality.

xxxxxx

=I am me. She is she. She is me. I am she. Are we One?=

~We are One.~

=What are They?=

~They? Only we are One? Who are They?~

=They are you.=

~Are _we_ One?~

=We are One.=

~We will never sever from him. _They_ are not _us. We_ are not _Them. We_ are One. _We_ are his...Stay with me a little longer.~

xxxxxx

His granite visage finally showed a crack as he beheld the splintered remains of General Affairs. The Dispatch manager balled his hands into tight fists. Once again, the sound of his black leather gloves creaking over his knuckles sent him into an internal rage. He analyzed the devastation surrounding him and the shocked and horrified reapers in the what was left of the department. One lady was weeping with glazed eyes as she held the torso of her doe eyed blond coworker, rocking it back and forth and whispering reassuring words as if that would somehow bring her back to the afterlife. "What happened here?" the stoic reaper inquired softly, yet sternly. He knew a Death Scythe was the cause of the damage, but he wanted to confirm a hunch about the the wielder of that certain scythe.

The fearless brunette raised her head, looking the black haired manager dead in the eyes from what was left of a counter top. A wistful look betrayed a rude smirk painted on her sharp features. "Legendary Death happened, sir." She bowed her head, rehashing the previous events. "He's actually very sweet. He just wants his mate returned-"

A hard slap broke the brunette's sentence in half. Stunned silence from all the females permeated the room's cold atmosphere. "Undertaker's mate is _not_ a woman," the male reaper sneered. "It is a failed science project, a weapon too powerful and unstable for its own good. You will do well not to sympathize with it or him." The manager's angry glare cast itself over the rest of the women. "See to it that medics arrive promptly."

"We've already called them," the sobbing lady replied. "Still waiting..."

"One more thing, did any of you see Agents Knox or Sutcliff come this way?" The crack in the pruner wielding reaper's stony visage repaired itself as he made his inquiry in his trademark monotone voice.

"Those two?" The brunette snickered. "I saw them come this way, sir. It seems like they were in a hurry to get to the library." A wistful smile matching the look in her eyes spread over her lips. "They were after Legendary Death." The brunette dropped her head, biting her lip as she thought about the legend's alluring eyes.

The manager glared at the brunette on the splintered remains of the counter top. He knew she got a damn good, close up look at those legendary, piercing eyes, but he kept his envious feelings to himself. Even Sutcliff had a close up look at the madman's eyes before. Sutcliff of all reapers, and Knox, too! Of course, that vile thing that the silver haired reaper insists on calling a woman gets an all access pass to those piercing, phosphorescent eyes anytime she wants, and he gladly obliges. Isn't he supposed to be the dominant one in the relationship? The bespectacled reaper gave a small, curt nod to the distraught women without further commentary and raced toward the library. He knew the legend he admired would be there looking for that thing. The raven haired reaper quickened his pace as he clenched his jaw, almost hearing his teeth grinding while his mind drifted to the fate of Legendary Death. The embarrassment crept in as his superior's smug observation replayed in his mind.

_...I know how you really feel about Crevan. It's written all over your face. It runs even deeper than admiration, doesn't it?_

The urge to kill his pony tailed superior washed over him as his embarrassment came and went. At the moment, however, unnecessary emotions had to be shoved aside. Orders needed to be carried out whether he agreed with them or not.


	23. Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> Emily's innermost thoughts +
> 
> Thanks for the reads and kudos. Sorry I've been taking forever on updates lately. I've been working my ass off on the follow up multi chap to this story. I'm on the home stretch with updating this story. Only a few more chapters to go and you won't have to hear any more sorry excuses for my slow updates. 
> 
> With that being said, this chapter does contain a tiny spoiler for my follow up and gore. ***You have been warned.***  
> Enjoy.

The green eyed scientist's heart was racing as she skidded to a stop and pressed her back against the wall, barely avoiding getting caught by her boss on the way to the control room.

+Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Is that son of a bitch ever going to leave? I'm done being his toy. I've had all I can take from the bastard and can take no more. I've gotten every last bit of information I need from him, yet he is still here. Does he know I intend to free her? Is he suspicious of me? Damn! Why doesn't that son of a bitch just get his sorry ass out of here already!+

If the double agent was going to free the Rarity, it had to be now, but the black haired reaper's surprise appearance near the control room entrance greatly complicated her plans. Spotting an air duct overhead, she briefly considered hiding inside, but ultimately decided against it as she didn't want to draw unwanted attention to herself with noises the reaper's sharp hearing would surely pick up. Instead, the Empath waited silently and eavesdropped on the male's conversation with her perverted associate as they spoke in hushed voices.

"...the clones because he is looking for her. This Legendary Death she loves so much is nothing but a has-been deserter..."

+That's definitely Martin.+

"...the clones are just copies of my pretty...If the bastard is so blind without his glasses, just give him a clone to take, he'll never know the difference..."

+That's the pervert.+

"...know the difference. He's not fucking blind! His vision's shitty, there's a fucking difference!...see the glow and sense her. Don't you know anything about your own race?"

"Rarities..."

"I don't care, you piece of shit! He'll know the goddamn difference!"

The rogue female risked peeking around the corner at the escalating exchange between the two men and witnessed the larger male pummeling the smaller into the ground. The blue eyed male finally had enough of his boss' abuse and summoned the power of his mind, sending him hurtling down the hall through a glass door with incredible force. She knew the day would eventually come when the perverted man would finally snap. "I'm tired of you telling me that I'm a piece of shit, reaper trash," the male Empath sneered. His blue eyes blazed at the black haired male as he was hoisted up from the floor and pinned to the wall by a single thought. While the males were distracted, it was the perfect opportunity for the female to sneak into the control room and put her next phase of sabotage into action. 

+Upload the Pestilence virus and let chaos take control...+

Just to be safe, the albino destroyed everything in the control room as the virus ran its course through the central computer system, destroying everything essential and nonessential alike. As the lights began to flicker out, one section of the underground building at a time, she locked the door from the inside and made her egress, keys in hand, self satisfied smirk on her face.

+May I be redeemed in the eyes of my Mistress.+

xxxxxx

A certain gray haired reaper sat alone in his office with a glass of absinthe dangling in one hand and a treasured object in the other. He remembered that day well. He remembered when he still had the passion for his art, but since _that_ day, he no longer cared. He absently downed the glass of absinthe and stared blankly at the immortalized moment he still treasured, although the one caught in the moment would probably never remember him, and if he was remembered, he'd gladly die for what he'd done. His hand wandered up to the curved spike in his ear as it so often did when he thought of _her._ A knock on the door jarred him from his thoughts. "Damn," he grumbled as he quickly hid his treasure. "What do you want?" his razor blade voice snapped at whomever interrupted his melancholy musings. "Are you going to come in or not? I don't have all day."

A pretty red haired reaper walked in with an envelope bearing the Council's official seal. "This came for you just now, sir," the lady said softly with flushed cheeks.

High contrast eyes scanned the redhead from head to toe. "Who are you and where is my assistant?"

"I'm Paige. Your other assistant quit. She told me as I came in that you...I shouldn't say anything. It's my first day and I don't want to get in trouble," she smiled sheepishly.

"I won't punish you. Sit, tell me what she said while I look over this letter," the manager invited. "I don't plan on keeping the Council waiting, you know. I would like to go home, and I'm sure you don't want overtime on your first day as my new assistant."

"She said that you were a scrawny, sadistic, bloodthirsty, cold hearted, asshole, and that I should watch out for you because you don't know how to show anyone respect, especially women. I'm sorry, sir, you asked." The woman looked down and fiddled with her manicured fingers.

"She's right to an extent, but I wouldn't call myself scrawny. Other than that, I have my reasons," he replied while reviewing the letter. A moment passed by, then two, when the gray reaper suddenly slammed the letter down and glared at his assistant. "What do _you_ think?"

"I don't know you, therefore, I cannot pass judgement," she replied in as even a tone as possible.

"I lost the last person who said that to me. She was very special. Well, at least you won't have to deal with me for very long. Someone's been redeemed, and I've been chosen to serve on the Council," the high ranking reaper said with a cold smile.

"If you don't mind my saying so, sir, I think you have beautiful eyes," the redhead squeaked out with a blush.

"Thank you," he said lowly. "I think you'd better get back to work. Type up my acceptance, standard reply, you know the drill, you're a smart woman, and deliver it to the Council chambers immediately. After that, you may go home."

This time, the high ranking reaper was relieved to be alone in his office. It had been many decades since someone told him he had beautiful eyes. A few rebellious tears rolled down his face as his hand wandered back up to the curved spike in his left ear as it so often did when he thought of _her_ and the many times he heard those sweet words drip like honey from her lips.

xxxxxx

Lights flickered off while the mortician studied the two dozen clones clamped inside their chambers by magnetic cuffs. Darkness was never a problem for him as his senses were well honed. Setting aside his glasses proved to be no hindrance to him in the slightest for he knew the difference between looking and seeing. A special kind of anger boiled in his blood as his acidic eyes roved each fraudulent version of his lavender love. Twenty four dead eyed forgeries.

*They are not _her._ They don't bear _her_ scars. They don't have _her_ tattoo. _They_ are not _her,_ although they made them out of her, _they are not her.*_

The reaper hadn't noticed that the clones were freed from their magnetic prisons as the power went out until one of them touched his face, bringing him back from the alternate reality of his self musings. The slightly stiff manner in which the clone touched him was completely unlike the petite woman he knew. She always had a smooth, delicate touch, even when she left deep rivers of crimson on his back when they made love. And, even on that day she came into the shop and traced the scar on his face, strange light shining from tear stained, curious eyes, in spite of her abject fear of him, her trembling hand still had a delicate touch. Had she not stopped when she did...

*I don't want to think about it.*

"A~dri~an," the lavender haired clone greeted in a soft, broken voice. The others closed in, echoing the first.

*Her eyes don't glow. None of their eyes glow.*

He put his hand over the "lead" clone's and gently removed it from his face. It broke his heart and angered him all at once to observe two dozen bad copies of the lovely weapon recognizing him and closing in on him as if they were _her._ "You are not _her,_ " the reaper said softly. "You are not my Lovely."

"Adri-" The clone attempted to repeat, but fell dead at the legend's feet. Twenty three thuds followed in rapid succession as her sister clones suffered the same fate. The clear liquid within the IV bags rendered the Ikiryo's Will poisonous to the clones, consequently killing them, and sending the Will back to its rightful place. The silver haired man scowled at the lifeless clones scattered about the laboratory floor, and especially at the one lying prostrate at his booted feet. "You are _not_ my Lovely," he growled. Fury erupted from within that special place in his heart that desperately missed the Rarity. The legendary reaper spotted an observation window overhead, still quite obvious despite the darkness and his blurry vision. "Where is she?" he shouted, summoning his Death scythe. "What did you do with my Lovely?"

Receiving no answer, the legend destroyed everything in his path, starting with the fakes. With possessive wrath burning in his phosphorescent eyes, he dismembered each one of the lifeless forgeries with ease, tossing their various limbs in random directions. Whatever torsos happened to be around were ripped apart, disemboweled, and strewn across the room in various directions, splattering the walls with blood red and useless vital organs. An assortment of body parts were jammed into broken machinery and electronic equipment. A terrifying grin spread over the mortician's face as he stepped through the carnage,

*There is only one Perfect Beauty.*

leaving dismembered clones mixed with shards of glass and twisted metal, overturned tables with guts hung about them like garlands on a Christmas tree, and even more choas in his wake. Toxic fire maliciously burned in his expressive eyes as he stalked down the corridor, leaving a trail of blood behind him. A few silent tears slipped down the male's pallid cheeks, though his psychotic grin never faltered.

*Lovely, I miss you so. Won't you tell me where you are.*

~Adrian!~

xxxxxx

The two males abruptly stopped fighting as soon as the lights flickered out. The Empath's blazing, blue eyes widened in shock as he looked to the recovering reaper on the floor. They stared at each other for a moment until it hit them. "The clones!" Both men cried in unison.

"It's locked from the inside!" the eugenicist shouted as a panicked blue glow overtook the blaze in his eyes.

The black haired reaper summoned his Death scythe and broke through the metal door blocking their entry. Both males were greeted by chaotic destruction as they stepped inside the control room. The high ranking reaper banished his katana with a frustrated growl. "That treacherous, green eyed bitch!" He turned on the other male. "Now we check the clones."

"This wasn't done by Emily, boss. There's no way!" the blue eyed man whined in a wheezy voice. He picked up a disembodied arm and caressed his cheek with its bloodied hand. "Oh, my pretties, we were so close, so very close," he absently murmured.

"That's just sick," the pony tailed reaper sneered as he continued sifting through the rubble. "It's blatantly obvious that _your_ whorish partner didn't do this. My property's mate has come to retrieve her. Too bad I've never been able to keep that thing in my grasp. She's more overpowering in the eyes than Emily."

"It's not my problem that women take issue with you," the impatient eugenicist blurted out.

The reaper's dark glare bored metaphorical holes into the Empath's soul. "At least they're _alive_ and _willing_ when I fuck them. Now then, you should also be aware after living among my kind for decades how possessive we are, but that thing's mate takes the cake. Shit, look around you! He even hacked her effigy to pieces. Tell me, 'Doc', would _you_ chop up the image of someone you supposedly loved? Hm?" he questioned in a condescending tone. "By your lack of response, I'm going to assume you've never loved a single person in your miserable life or you most likely wouldn't destroy the image of that which you love. That thing wouldn't listen to reason. You heard her demanding of us the whereabouts of her precious Adrian. She's so convinced that he's this perfect gentleman, but I assure you, he's extremely violent and has no idea what the fuck sanity is. I have seen this man fight. Hesse is the only one that has ever beat him in a death match, and we _all_ know what a bloodthirsty sadist he is, so it makes perfect sense."

"I heard Hesse goes on killing sprees for the thrill of it," the blue eyed man stated as he rummaged through the wreckage in search of anything salvageable. "Is that true?"

"Oh yes, it's true," the senior manager confirmed with a smug smirk. "A sexual thrill. He may look fragile, but he's very powerful. He's been around a hell of a lot longer than I have. He and that twat, Marcus Jones, popped into existence around the same time. If I remember correctly, Jones came into our realm right after Hesse, like Jacob on Esau's heel." The black haired reaper bitterly laughed. "Well, you know what they say about us as we age. Anyway, there's nothing here that can be saved. That bastard destroyed everything. I suggest we take our leave while we can."

"And do what?" the blue eyed Empath huffed.

"We wait. Those two will be along in a little while, I'm sure. There's only one way in and one way out," the high ranking reaper smugly replied. "I would also strongly advise not to fuck with me again. Now that I have no more use for you and that albino bitch that played me for a fool, I will not hesitate to kill either of you." He flashed the Empath a menacing grin. 

"What do we do with...this?" the eugenicist gestured to the rotting flesh amidst the destruction.

"Leave it for the little bitch to see. I wonder if it will shake her devotion to that oh-so-perfect legend she's so in love with?"

"I don't know if it will. I've seen her do some sick shit and so have you."

The taller male quirked an eyebrow. "True, but have you seen her do it to a representation of someone she loves?"

"Point taken," the smaller man conceded.

xxxxxx

Time passed too slowly for the experiment as she waited for her silver love to find her. She heard him call out to her and she knew he heard her return his call. All she could do was anxiously wait in her weakened state and hope that he arrived soon. Try as she might, the icy winter couldn't stop pained tears from flowing down her face. Fearful sobs wracked her small body as she lay there still tightly strapped down to the cold, metal examination table, clinging desperately to the hope that the death god she is forever devoted to had not, himself, met his own end. Squeezing her glowing eyes shut, she uttered another silent prayer to the Goddess. Every second that passed by without him was pure agony. The tattooed female bit back a screaming lamentation. Instead, she closed her eyes tighter, and allowed her fears and sadness to rain down from sorrowful, mismatched eyes.

~Adrian, where are you?~

"I'm right here, Lovely," a familiar, velvet voice cooed. The female opened her tear stained eyes and beheld a pair of stunning green reaper's eyes staring back at her.

~Stunning eyes that never lie.~

"Don't cry, milady. You know it breaks my heart to see you cry."

As soon as the last restraint was removed, the winter storm threw herself in the legend's warm embrace. She pulled back a bit, looking her reaper in the eyes. A subtle, hungry innocence lit up mismatched jewels set in obsidian and framed by long, lavender lashes as she delicately traced the scar bisecting her lover's face.

*This is her. This is MY Lovely!*

The mortician closed his eyes and sighed lowly. "It really is you, my silver love," she whispered against the man's lips as he pulled her up against his chest. A barely audible whimper escaped him when her delicate hand left his face. "I missed you so much. A forgery said you wished to hurt me, but he has evil eyes that lie. He doesn't know the meaning of One. He will never be you. I will always be yours." The Rarity's _perfect_ mismatched glowing eyes locked on to his electric green double irises as she slid her slender fingers through silver tresses.

"Lovely," the silver haired reaper breathed. "Whatever it is you do to me is addicting. Don't stop." With nothing left to say, he wrapped his Perfect Beauty in his arms and kissed her with passionate abandon. She was his goddess and he was her cult. "I love you so much," he whispered while nuzzling the crook of her neck. 

"I love you as well, my beautiful Adrian," the woman of mass destruction replied, returning the legend's nuzzling affection. "I'm so happy we didn't lose each other before the appointed time." Her blue and green eyes glowed in a bittersweet softness against the dark backdrop they were lodged within as she drank in the intoxicating beauty of her lover's face. "Your beauty is absolutely perfect, my silver love."

*Heehee. Even with all these scars.*

"Especially, with all of your scars," she said lowly, capturing his lips in a ravenous kiss. "They are almost as alluring as your eyes, my silver love." 

Silver Death elicited a low purr from his lady love as he raked his long, slender fingers through her hair. Both lovers smiled wistfully as they twirled each other's braids between their fingers. "Your hair is so beautiful, Lovely, even when it's a mess." His signature grin spread across his lips. "Come, Lovely," the mortician said in what passed for a cheerful tone as he scooped the girl into his arms. "Let's get you cleaned up. Hehehehe." He kissed her forehead gently as she nuzzled into his chest with a soft giggle. Those seven little words always made the Rarity feel giddy and he knew why.

*The hair. She's obsessed with my compulsion to touch her hair. Her precious, silky lavender hair.*

Despite the satisfied faces they wore, neither one of the fair haired lovers could shake the feelings of dread encroaching them as they made their way through dark, twisting corridors on the way to the exit out into the catacombs. As they approached what was left of the clone room, the petite's eyes lit up with almost childlike wonder at the macabre result of the chaos left in the mortician's wake. Destroyed effigies

~Frauds.~

of the Rarity were laid inside out for all to see. She snuggled up to the legendary reaper with a warm sensation rushing throughout her body and a feral glow in her eyes. "Was all of this for me, Adrian?"

"For you," he replied meaningfully, holding her faster as they pushed through the chaotic mess toward the exit.

Both lovers held fast to each other and faster still, the further they moved along. They stole brief kisses in the dark corridors while they could, and exchanged a heartfelt "I love you" once they emerged from the hidden chambers beneath the catacombs into the carnage above. The Rarity smiled to herself.

~All this...for me.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while listening to Big Black. If you've heard of them, you are awesome and deserve cookies! : )


	24. Agenda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> Emily's innermost thoughts +
> 
> Thanks for stopping by and giving my story a nice once over. I appreciate the kudos and stuff of that nature. Only a few more chapters to go!  
> The chapter may look choppy due to differing POVs of our protagonists' allies observing the same event unfolding, hence the name of the chapter. Notice a theme here? Also, the long awaited sexy time is here!
> 
> This chapter contains partial exhibitionism and dismemberment. ***You have been warned.***

The double agent made it back to the lab undetected only to find the room void of any occupants. 

+He found her. Legendary Death has his treasure once more.+

The next order of business was self preservation. The saboteur ransacked the laboratory, gathering any necessary items she could carry on her person, including documents implicating the black haired reapers from the inception of the eugenics program all the way into the present. Satisfied with her choice of inventory, the rogue wreaked total havoc on the room within, setting the small office ablaze, virtually erasing herself from the project in its entirety. Locking the door from the inside, the female closed off the room and vanished into the gloomy corridors with the green lights of her eyes guiding the way out.

+Sacrifices must be made, but not _them,_ and not her...not until her Hour strikes.+

"Dammit!" the green eyed eugenicist cursed under her breath as she broke free from the darkness of the catacombs. The phantom pain mercilessly stabbed the left side of her face as she stumbled to a secluded area in the brightly lit library. The stark difference between the darkness of the catacombs and the brightness of the library shocked the secondary optic nerve that gave her race the unique glow of their eyes, sending the female to her knees, clutching her head as she was painfully reminded of her sacrifice.

+It was for _her_ so that the Prophecy can be fulfilled.+

The double agent rose to her feet as the pain subsided, dragging the phantom along with it, and scanned her surroundings in search of a certain person. She was now aware of just how brutal a man Legendary Death was as she studied the dismembered corpses littering the library and shelves lined with more gore than books. She stifled a startled yelp when she almost tripped over a disembodied head as she turned in the direction of the catacombs at the sound of loud shouts. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her pretty red friend and her subordinate in a heated argument with their boss. Unfortunately, the relief was short lived when she was grabbed from behind by her throat.

"Found you," a deep, angry, resonate voice growled lowly in her ear.

A wheezy chuckle joined in. "Stupid bitch."

"Where is she?" the black haired reaper inquired, squeezing the green eyed woman's throat just enough to intimidate her into submission. "I had her first, I want her back. She's my property. Where the fuck are you hiding her?"

"Oh, so _I_ didn't count for anything?" the green eyed rogue rasped sarcastically.

"You were never mine, though I wanted you to be. You're not getting out of this, Emily. Where the fuck is the 'Prototype'? Where did you hide her?" His hand tightened around the woman's throat. "I should kill you now for playing me for a fool for so many years, but I need your information first. Tell me where she is. Now!"

The traitorous female merely grinned. "Do you really have to make such ridiculous demands, _Martin?_ You know exactly where she is, and you know I don't give a shit about your intimidation tactics." The female turned her face up and met the eyes of her aggressor with an intimidating green light blazing in hers and a deranged grin on her face. "Marcus choked me harder than that when he fucked me, and damn could he fuck. In the end, _you_ are a powerless piece of shit." The green eyed eugenicist let out a strained laugh. "Behold! Here she comes, alive and well in the arms of Death himself. Gaze upon her face, Martin. Her devotion is unshaken despite his violence for it is never directed at her nor will it ever be unless she wishes it. What they have is absolute, beautiful, and pure." The albino's tone darkened. "It's ironic that you're scared to take on your boss, but you don't fear a legend. If you want her, Martin, you'll have to fight for her."

The high ranking reaper adjusted his gold framed glasses with an annoyed huff. "So that's how it's going to be? Comparing _me_ to some dead son of a bitch? Just how long were you with him?"

"That's a secret," the traitor replied with a sly giggle.

"Well then, let us be entertained my dear, Emily," the pony tailed manager sneered.

+The Conduit is here.+

xxxxxx

"I most certainly will not!" the red reaper exclaimed in a huff. Her subordinate's dual colored eyes nervously glanced back and forth between her and his former role model as they argued over the fate of the legend. "I still can't believe you'd choose your damn career over him!" The redhead's eyes darkened with rage, building up like a tempest as she glared at her emotionless superior. "I sincerely regret ever loving you. I found your cold stoicism attractive for the longest time, but now it repulses me."

The red reaper's boss was itching to run her through with his Death Scythe, but doing so was against protocol and would result in immediate termination at the very least. His leather gloves made that infernal creaking noise, which further fueled his anger as he tightened his grip on his ever present pruners. "Sutcliff," he began in a low, calm-too calm-voice. "You and Knox _will_ apprehend Undertaker. If he has succeeded in reclaiming that...freak he calls a mate, you will apprehend it as well. They will be confined to secure locations separate from each other. Undertaker _will_ be executed. This is the final time I'm going to tell you this, Sutcliff!"

A sharp toothed grin spread over her ruby painted lips as she looked to her subordinate who gave her a flirty wink in return. "No, Spears-senpai, I refuse to do any harm to 'Taker or his _lady._ It goes against my morals to hurt my friends," the blond affirmed without his usual casual attitude.

"Sutcliff, don't try to pull the 'morals' card on me. I know good and well that you don't even know the definition of the word," the irate reaper rebuked.

"Oh, Willy, I wasn't planning on it," Red Death purred, her grin growing wider at the twitching eyebrow of her boss. "I just don't feel like hurting _my_ friends. That would be too boring." The redhead's sarcasm was venomous as it dripped from her ruby painted lips. "I'd rather give up my chainsaw before I give up Unny, however, I'd prefer to keep both." 

"Look, senpai, there they are," the blond shouted over the din, pointing in the direction of the catacombs.

"Looks like you're on your own, Will," the redhead stated with a nonchalant flip of her hair. "Come on, Ronnie, let's go check out that gorgeous madman." The viciously perky redhead linked arms with the younger reaper as they both casually defied their boss' orders with a spring in their step from a heavy weight finally being lifted off of their backs.

The raven haired manager was left flabbergasted as his two subordinates sauntered off, leaving him alone to fight the silver haired legend he so admired and adored deep down inside. He glared at the two snickering reapers ahead of him and growled as they shamelessly flipped him off. He couldn't believe the outright defiance his subordinates just displayed to his face, and in public no less, just to save his former mentor and that repulsive thing he calls a mate. "How dare he choose that thing as a mate!" the stoic reaper fumed to himself.

xxxxxx

The lavender haired petite held tightly to her lover as he carried her through the maze of the catacombs. He stopped and shrank back into the shadows when a suspicious rustling noise was heard up ahead. The female instinctively buried her head in the reaper's chest to conceal her ever glowing eyes. The couple listened closely in anticipation, but all that was heard were weak pleas for mercy accompanying the rustling instead of the expected onslaught of violence.

*One of them survived after all. Heehee.*

"Adrian?" The experiment peered up at the silver reaper's piercing eyes with a worried expression overtaking her delicate features.

"It's ok, Lovely, I won't leave you," the reaper reassured in a soothing voice. Shivers rocketed up and down her spine as he stroked her hair, grazing her scalp with his long nails.

~His long, wonderful nails.~

Lost in the moment, the lavender weapon pulled the reaper down by his braid for a spontaneous kiss. The silver haired male held the Rarity closer, threading his fingers through lavender locks, tasting her, and in his own way dominating her as he pinned her against a rough wall in a hidden place within the catacombs. The petite, clothed solely in the thin, white, cotton gown from the pits of hell, intertwined her limbs around the tall, black clad reaper. "I want you to take me," she breathlessly demanded as she wove her delicate fingers through silver silk, humming with unsated hunger as the lengthy strands slipped through her fingers.

"Are you quite sure, my love?" the mortician asked with concern flickering in his brilliant, golden green eyes.

The hybrid weapon's glowing eyes radiated insistent ferocity. "This may be the last time I'll remember us as we are." She ground her hips into his. "I want you, Adrian, right now, before my Hour strikes."

The legend drew the Rarity against him as she captured his lips in a gluttonous kiss. A long fingered hand tipped with wonderful nails of ebony slid down between the two fair haired, porcelain skinned lovers. "As my Lovely wishes," the male's velvet voice purred as he released the array of fastenings on his leather pants in one swift movement. With a fierce, animalistic kiss, the reaper roughly shoved the petite against the rock wall and into her.

Delicate fingers twisted into silver tresses. "Adrian, I said I wanted you to _take_ me." She squeezed her legs around the silver reaper's slim waist and rolled her hips down hard, emphasizing her demand for the silver haired man to sate her secret hunger. She pulled back his bangs, revealing a look of unsated hunger mixed with raw, aggressive desire waiting to be unleashed from its confines. The petite's heart raced as her eyes took on the strange glow that ignited the first time she beheld her lover's legendary eyes.

~Oh Goddess, his eyes are so...perfect.~

"Don't hold back, my silver love," the female whispered with sparkling gems aglow against black satin.

Silver Death buried one hand in a sea of lavender and pulled down hard, forcing the petite to meet his fiery, possessive, hunter's gaze. "Anything for _my_ Lovely," he purred darkly against parted lips. His eyes retained the look of possessive hunger overlaid with aggressive desire while he stared down at the weapon at his mercy. He brushed his lips against hers, delighting in their softness before moving on to relentlessly tease that certain spot of sensitive flesh behind her right ear. The soft skin of her tattooed back was a stark contrast to the unrelenting power he held over her in their deadly dance. The stained skin was fire beneath his touch as he unlocked her secret places, her devotion to him spilled out in her native tongue. She buried her face in a waterfall of silver and rolled her hips to meet his, that certain piercing only serving to unlock the secrets of the secrets to her secret places under the legend's raw, unrelenting, animalistic domination over her.

"I am yours," she whispered in Legendary Death's ear, making sure to give each piece of metal the attention it deserved, eliciting a soft growl from the bearer of the piercings.

"I am yours as well, Stella." Silver captured lavender in a sweetly domineering kiss that left her craving more.

~From him.~

"I love you."

"As I love you, Adrian," the weapon breathed, returning the kiss in kind.

They both knew he was close when he had to be closer to her. Despite his aggression, a subtly inaudible whimper still escaped the mortician's lips as he pulled the Rarity against him by her hair. He clutched her possessively and buried his face in soft lavender, whispering sweet words to the one he was singularly devoted to without relenting his power over her. She, in turn, held him close as he took her without holding back, seeking out all his sensitive spots adorned with metal, teasing _him_ mercilessly as he had done to her. She knotted her fingers in a mass of silver as the reaper tore open the flesh on his favorite spot on her neck, sating her secret hunger. 

"Oh Goddess, Adrian, again!" the petite demanded, meeting the eyes of her sadistic lover. Without question and without fail, he carried out her sadistic wish, losing himself in the moment and in her.

"You're a little masochist," the silver reaper whispered as he soothed the bite wounds to his lavender love's neck. "But you're my little masochist."

"I am," the scarlet stained petite agreed with a girlish giggle.

xxxxxx

A mortally injured reaper lying on the ground in the catacombs with a deep scythe wound across his back turned out to be the source of the suspicious rustling the fair haired lovers heard before taking a break from the dark reality to come. From what the couple could see, the security agent's injuries were indeed severe, but not life threatening (at least in the silver reaper's opinion). A severed spinal cord, an arm dangling from sinewy flesh, a vertical slash over the face leaving an eye hanging, split open from its socket, along with some surface wounds, and broken bones already healing themselves, in addition to an open chest cavity exposed to damp air, making the pain even more unbearably excruciating for the down, but not quite out security agent seemed fair to the mortician considering the fact that he was one of the assholes who tried to keep him away from his treasure. In the legend's mind, letting the reaper lie there and rot was merciful, although hearing the bastard cry like a baby to be reaped did put a bit of a smile on his face.

"My, my, look what we have here, Lovely," the silver haired man drawled, addressing his mate. She peered down at the mangled, suffering security agent on the floor with curious, mismatched eyes set against the void. "This one fought well against me. Hehehe." The mortician adjusted his lavender lover in his arms and stole a sweet kiss. "I'm surprised you're still alive." The mortician grinned down at the paralyzed reaper without a hint of mirth.

"Please..." the mutilated man begged. "End...me. I...am unable...cannot move."

The mortician smirked, then grew deadly serious. "Why should I show you mercy?" His eyes shone with hatred. "None of you were willing to show her any. As I recall, you and what's left of everyone else in here were more than willing to keep me away from my Lovely." The aforementioned woman hummed as onyx talons caressed her cheek.

"She's...yours? Stolen from you...your treasure?" the mangled reaper asked in a feeble attempt to make amends. "Kill...for...her?"

The fair haired lovers stared at the dying man in disdain. "Anything my Lovely needs, I will provide. Anything my Lovely wants, I will give. Anything my Lovely wishes, I will do," the legendary reaper's voice resounded with dark wrath as he spoke to the paralyzed heap of mangled flesh at his feet. "I'd rather let you lie there and suffer, but I'm going to leave your fate in her hands instead." He placed a soft kiss on the petite's forehead as he gently lowered her to the ground.

"Please...please, release me," the agonized security agent pleaded the violent winter. "Let your...mate...end me."

"Very well, I'll let him end you, but I have something I want to say. I don't believe for a second that you give a shit about me. I can see it in your pretty green and yellow eyes that lie. I am an object to you." Blue and green blazed as she knelt down in front of the bleeding reaper. "Though you cannot walk, you still stumble. Allow me to remove the stumbling block for you before you meet your end." The frozen winter horror wrenched her small hands into the security officer's mouth and wrapped her fingers around his tongue, digging her nails deep into the wet muscle, and with a hard jerk, ripped it out in a geyser of crimson. "Now, Adrian." The female gestured toward the suffering reaper, pointing at him with his lying tongue. "End him mercifully." The legend summoned his scythe, and in a deadly arc, cleanly decapitated the mangled reaper, effectively ending his misery. The petite scowled at the headless corpse. "I am no one's object," she muttered under her breath. Kneeling down, she placed the dead man's severed tongue in his lifeless, outstretched hand. "The Goddess shall not suffer liars to live."

The Rarity squeaked as the mortician unexpectedly scooped her into his arms. "You're so adorable when you squeak like that." The silver haired reaper nuzzled silky lavender, taking in the sweet scent of mimosa blossoms for what could very well be the last time. "I love you with all that I am and more," he whispered in a choked, shaky voice, evidently holding back anxious tears.

"As I love you, my beautiful Adrian," the Rarity softly replied.

The fair haired lovers stole one last passionate kiss as they exited the catacombs, entering into the din of the Great Library. Indeed, the Hour had come as half a dozen beings began descending upon them, each with their own agenda.


	25. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts & communication =  
> Emily's innermost thoughts +
> 
> Hello, and thank you for reading.  
> This chapter contains suicide via mind control, gore. ***You have been warned.***

The stern Dispatch manager was the first to greet the legend and the Rarity as they emerged from the catacombs. "Sir, I have orders to arrest and detain you in preparation for execution for the crime of desertion," he stated flatly while directing his venomous glare at the lavender haired woman in the silver reaper's arms. The legendary reaper's insane cackling further infuriated him as he was forced to look upon the man he idolized holding a lethal weapon in a most affectionate manner as though he were mocking him with her very presence-no, existence. The short haired manager's eyebrow twitched with pent up rage, and this time he was unable to control the snarl that graced his sharp features when the experiment locked eyes with him.

~You don't scare me anymore, William T. Spears. I hold more power in my inner eyelid than your pitiful, small minded, unexceptional, young reaper mind could begin to comprehend. I am a predator. You are prey unworthy of my palate.~

The stoic reaper refused to show fear as the female pierced his subconscious with her condescending criticism. "It does not change the fact that you are an abomination."

"Oh, is that so, Mr. Spears?" the mortician cut in with dark, mocking condescension pouring out of his velvet voice in defense of his lover.

"Sir," the bespectacled reaper began impatiently while still showing signs of respect to the legend. "Your...mate is not the issue at the moment. May I remind you that I am under orders to arrest and detain you for desertion. You must accompany me to a secure location in preparation for your execution."

The silver haired man burst into a fit of mad laughter. "Isn't that cuuuuuute, Willy?"

"And also for the possession of stolen property, it seems," a mocking voice added from behind the legend. The blue eyed male accompanying the mocking voice, barely restraining wheezing chuckles. "Oh, and what an absolutely _charming_ pair the two of you make," the sarcastic male drawled as he took his place before the legend. "Why, if that kinky little green haired bitch were still alive, I could cut her in half and fill in the gap between you and what you _think_ is yours. Yes, that should even you two out," the high ranking, black haired male pointed out in reference to the fair haired couple's height difference.

The lavender haired woman scowled at the two black haired reapers, then cupped her hand over her lover's ear, whispering something of great importance judging by the dark look in his phosphorescent eyes. "He's always envied me, Lovely. I'm pleased he didn't break you," he said in a hushed voice as he tenderly kissed the Rarity in a blatant display of affection for their enemies to see. The reaper gently placed the weapon on the floor, holding her against him in a possessively protective embrace. "Now then, which one of you wants to tell me why you cloned her?" he demanded with a menacing grin as he summoned his Death Scythe. Tapping his long nails on the female's collarbone, he issued a challenge. "Since neither of you have the balls to answer a simple question, I'll make you a different deal as I'm in the mood for a hunt. If you can catch me, you are free to take me in and execute me, but you cannot, under any circumstances, take _my_ Lovely. _She_ is to remain free. _She_ is _not_ property." Rogue, piercing eyes full of burning wrath and singular, fanatical devotion to an otherworldly creature bored into the two managers' sets of reaper's eyes, daring them to oppose him. "What do you say? Care to go on a hunt?" Silver Death's legendary hunter's eyes flashed with malice as he eyed his prey like the mad, stalking predator he's reputed to be.

Before the younger manager spoke, the pony tailed forgery of the legend grinned as he summoned his Death Scythe. "Challenge accepted, Mr. Crevan. I'll have your head hanging on my wall as a trophy." With that idle threat, he launched himself at the silver haired male while his subordinate took the opportunity to attack the unprotected petite with a swift extension of his pruning shears. Metal on metal ground against each other as the attack was blocked by the spinning blade of a chainsaw.

"Sutcliff!" the enraged boss yelled through grit teeth at the grinning face of the red reaper. "Honestly, you're nothing but a nuisance. Get out of my way!"

"I don't think so, my cold prince," the effeminate reaper purred darkly. "Not this time." Her mouthful of razor sharp teeth twisted into a deadly snarl as she drove her stiletto boot into her boss' crotch, taking sadistic satisfaction in hearing him sing soprano from the pain of having his balls kicked by a reaper in heels. "That's for the rejection over the years, you cruel bastard!" Spatters of blood flew up, staining the red reaper's white dress shirt when she took a swipe at the tyrant's face. "That's for all the times you've harmed a maiden's face, you cold son of a bitch!" Sadistic rage glowed from toxic green, catlike eyes as the reaper in red banished her scythe and kicked her superior to the floor. The entirety of her pointed teeth were exposed in a maniacal grin as she sat astride the Dispatch manager's chest. "Don't you look so pretty painted red," she maliciously teased while taking the beaten man's hand in hers. "Bite or break? Whatever shall I do? How about both!" The deranged red reaper broke each finger of the pruner wielding man in odd directions, slowly and most painfully, and finally finished with devastating bites to the palms of his hands. "That's what you get for torturing those little girls all the way until adulthood, especially January. I still owe that skinny sadist an apology for that day, no thanks to you," the redhead growled. With a flip of her hair, she removed herself from her boss' presence and giggled to herself as she thought of the scar her precious chainsaw would leave behind on the stoic male's face. "A token of my love I no longer harbor for the cruel, disgusting man." Red Death smiled at the experiment as she approached her, knowing in her heart she did something right by her to make amends for a broken part of both of their pasts.

xxxxxx

The albino watched the pandemonium from a safe distance, relieved that the two males left her to her own devices as they decided to pick a fight they could not win. She shook her head and scoffed at her former "boss" and "fuck toy" as Legendary Death effortlessly outmaneuvered him. The silver haired man fought savagely, yet gracefully. "Reminds me of Marcus," the woman mused, opening the face of her watch and gazing sadly at the memento inside. "My Goddess, could that bastard reaper fight, and damn could he fuck." Something wet trickled down her face from her right eye. "What the hell?" She quickly shot her hand up to check if she was bleeding, but a clear substance graced her fingertips instead.

+Oh my Goddess! I forgot I was capable.+

More tears flowed from the single functioning eye as she thought of her deceased lover and the many nights he'd lay with her wrapped in his arms, forever transfixed by her ethereal beauty and the tattoo of lilies with eyes being consumed by sharp teeth lining her sternum like a runway. As she lay sleeping, his fingertips would slowly and delicately slide down the mark of her rite of passage into womanhood, the crawling of her flesh waking her to a softly smiling reaper. For almost two centuries, they had been together, and now for the first time in over four decades, she could finally mourn his unjust death.

+My heart goes out to him, the one who is trapped in the flux of the demiurge's laws; an unwilling pawn. I shall avenge you, my love, Marcus, and I shall avenge she who I've never severed from. I shall use my vengeance to seek forgiveness for my sins and beg forgiveness for sacrificing half of my power. May the Goddess have mercy upon me.+

For the time being, the white haired woman's thirst for vengeance would have to wait, but it was proving to be worthwhile as she watched the petite whet her thirst for revenge on the blue eyed fraud who committed blasphemous, perverted acts against her for the majority of her short life.

xxxxxx

~Never again.~ Two words clawed their way into the blue eyed man's subconscious softly, darkly, sensually. ~Never again will I be your doll. Never again will I be your fuck toy. Never again will I lose my power to you.~ Twin black eyes met blazing blue in a deadly standoff. ~Never again will I be your test subject.~

The blue eyed male sneered at his tormentor. "That's all you're good for, my pretty." Wheezing snickers resounded from his mouth.

=Tear apart your insides.=

His snickering soon turned to groans as mild abdominal pain steadily increased.

=Bleed.=

~I am not yours. I am _his._ I am Legendary Death's treasure.~ The expressionless, motionless petite in the white gown bearing bloodstains from the legend's sadistic kiss stared at her old enemy with gleaming black pits. ~Does it hurt? Does it hurt to know that you've been a disgraceful, lying coward all your life? You were one of the bastards who bartered the child Rarities for the sick perversions done to them until death. You're also a fraudster and a necrophiliac. You should sleep forever, absent of the Void, rejected by Her, banished from the Divine Light, and forever encased in Her Holy Hatred. You must hurt as you hurt me; as you hurt her that day in May. Do you remember Mae? Do you remember how you vivisected her and humiliated her corpse in May, and forced me to watch because you and the other knew we were One?~

The Empath unwittingly produced a long needled syringe from within his stained, dingy lab coat, hardly noticing it was filled with a lethal dose of the same solution that had only rendered the winter of mass destruction unconscious. The dosage-the entirety of the syringe-would instantly kill him. Sweat beaded on his hairless brow and rolled down the sides of his face as he stared at the tip of the needle only millimeters from piercing the delicate surface of his glowing, blue eye.

=Tear apart your insides.=

The Rarity's obsidian gaze never faltered from the defiant man struggling to maintain some type of dignity. She watched in hidden amusement while the filthy, perverted fraud literally vomited chunks of his digestive system. Then, she heard something she never thought she'd hear: the black haired rogue beg for his life.

=BLEED~=

"Please...stop this. I don't want to die. Not like this...Please..." Blood and bile spilled from whining, perverted lips as the male's blue glow grew dimmer with each passing moment. Violent spasms of pain forced the Empath to his knees in terrifying shrieks of pain. His brutish features were twisted in a mask of erroneous regret and abject fear of dying by the hand of the weapon he helped create. The ultimate woman would have her revenge.

~No. I show _no_ mercy to my enemies.~

=Tear your insides OUT.=

"Please..." the man choked on the word as he spewed out more blood and lumps of various internal organs.

~If you want mercy, the solution is in your hand.~

The male with the fading blue light pointed the syringe at his eye once more. He was finally going to feel weaponized winter's rumored cold, sadistic wrath, and he instantly regretted every moment of his involvement in both the eugenics project and the secret cloning project, among other things. If the charlatan could do it over again, he would've let that long haired reaper kill him and leave him behind to rot in the decaying stench of their now forgotten homeland rather than lie about his credentials to save his own skin.

~Destroy yourself. Make yourself forget just as you tried to make me forget.~

"T-this i-is a l-lethal d-dose," the dying Empath weakly pointed out. A metallic dot blurred the vision in one of his eyes as his hand moved of its own accord, positioning the implement held within for its next task.

~I know. I also know you were saving it for me. Unfortunately for you, I have evolved past the point of no return.~ The black pits seemed to sparkle as the expressionless female gazed down at the repentant eugenicist. The soft, airy, sensually malignant voice in his head seemed pleased with itself as it began its final order. ~You'll be granting yourself mercy this way, unless you want to-~

-"PLEASE, I'm sorry! I'm a fucking coward! Ok! I shoulda just died with the rest of our people, goddammit!" the blue eyed pervert screeched. The surrounding chaos stopped momentarily at the sound of his cries, then resumed again with more interest in destroying each other than in the self destruction of some dipshit fraud that was going to die anyway.

~Then, you know what you must do.~

The Empath robotically nodded, jammed the long needle into the inner corner of his left eye, and pushed the plunger all the way in, releasing the lethal red liquid. His blazing, blue eyes went wide as he fell into another violent fit of vomiting spasms before collapsing, face down, in a coagulating pool of his own bleeding chunks of internal organs. The pathetic blue light in the male's eyes faded to gray upon his last breath as a single bloody tear rolled down his cheek, although it could have just been a tiny amount of solution left over from the syringe still left in his eye.

The sound of metallic clicking some distance away warned of pruners on the attack. A sharp, searing hot pain in the Rarity's arm elicited an inhuman noise she hardly believed she was capable of producing just as she was starting to disappear from view. Eyes as black as pitch widened in curious shock at the huge gash and the contents contained within. Glimpses of her life on bright celluloid swirled around inside the blood of her quickly healing wound. Familiar strangers flashed by, if only for an instant. One in particular stuck out to her, then he was gone, as was the wound, but the pain remained.

~A begging sadist?~

"Leave her alone!" a familiar, feminine voice shouted as the Rarity collapsed to the ground, nursing the freshly healed scythe wound.

"Emily?" the lavender lady called out.

"I'm here, Stella," the other replied while keeping an eye on her seriously injured attacker. "We must end this. The minutes are ticking down as your Hour has struck." The pained woman nodded in agreement. "Tell them, Martin, or I will," the female scientist demanded. "Answer Adrian Crevan's question. Tell him what you told me when I had you on _your_ back, begging me not to stop. I had no idea that one eye could be that effective over the years, and here I thought you were much stronger." The female sneered at the high ranking reaper. "Tell _everyone_ here why you used my Sister in the Goddess as an object to clone! I'm sure her mate will be absolutely _thrilled_ to hear it."

Silence fell upon the library as all fighting ceased. The pole of pruners retracted from their second attempt at attacking the lavender Rarity, humbly finding their way back to their respective owner. The two elder reapers faced the demanding female, regarding her with curiosity for their own reasons.

*Lovely.*

The silver reaper's murderous glare softened momentarily as his eyes met the mismatched, glowing jewels resting in onyx cabochons of the petite woman he'd somehow always loved, and became fanatically devoted to for a little over a year. Soft smiles were exchanged between the fair haired lovers. Despite the surrounding carnage, it felt as though they were the only ones in the universe as they exchanged subtly glowing glances with each other.

~You're so precious to me.~

*And you are my treasure.*

Something about the look in the weapon's eyes as she stood among the wreckage brought on an involuntary, albeit, pleasant memory.

xxxxxx

_"Can I see?" he asked, trailing black nails down the tattooed length of her back, followed by soft kisses. She giggled as silver strands brushed against her smooth skin in the morning light. He never noticed until now that her flesh literally crawled under his soft caress as if it were chasing after the sensation like an addict in search of their next fix. Both lovers indulged in each other like the gluttons they were. He was especially happy now that he had completely claimed her. With her surrender to him, he could now bask in the beauty of her naked glory in the light of day without fear of triggering shame in her volatile psyche from the brutal memories of her past._

_"See what, my silver love?" she asked as she lazily turned over and stared at her lover's scarred visage with softly glowing, half lidded eyes. A barely visible network of hair thin scars criss-crossing the petite's body, no doubt from the experiments, reflected silvery lines over pale skin in the progressing light of the morning sun. "Vivisections," she whispered, taking his hand and guiding it over the Y-incision. "I was awake most of the time, but I don't remember much. They gave me shots afterward...but it's ok now because I'm with you." Her eyes dimmed at her frowning lover. "I...Are you going to punish me? I didn't mean to anger you."_

_His piercing eyes met the unpolished gems disappearing into the night. "Lovely, I will never punish you. Please don't think that way anymore. What kind of man would I be if I punished the One I love? It is not you who angers me, it's the bastards who did this to you that anger me."_

_Her Aurora Borealis eyes visibly brightened again at her lover's meaningful reassurance as she pulled him in for a fiery kiss. He affectionately nuzzled her head with his. "What do you wish to see, Adrian?"_

_"Your inner eyelids. Blink them slowly for me. I'm curious to know what they look like," he purred in a persuasive, velvet voice._

_"You're a madman, Adrian," her words came out as pleasured moans as he trailed soft kisses up and down the sides of her neck, stopping at the certain place behind her right ear, teasing her with slow rolls of the tongue with each soft, sweet kiss on the sensitive flesh. "Oh Goddess, Adrian, you sadistic bastard, and the nails, too!" she breathed as he skimmed the soft surface of her skin with the tips of his onyx talons._

_"I'm legendary in more ways than one," he quipped with veiled innuendo. "Then again, you already know that."_

_"Ok, you win. Dammit, Adrian, look." She sat in the light at just the right angle, close enough for her silver love to see given his bad eyesight, and blinked each set of eyelids independently of each other in slow succession. "Satisfied?"_

_For a brief second he saw himself reflected in her inner eyelids before the thin, outer skin covered them again. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with tender passion. "Absolutely breathtaking."_

xxxxxx

The silver haired man quickly snapped himself out of the pleasant memory and back to bitter reality. He needed to remain focused on the woman he's fiercely devoted to right here, right now, in this moment.

*Who is this white haired woman and what is she on about?*

"Emily, what the hell are you talking about?" the reaper with the high, black pony tail huffed. "What the fuck do you mean by 'one eye'? Shit, I always knew you were religious, but where did this sudden zealotry come from?"

The white haired woman cracked a menacing grin. "You really don't get it, do you?" She laughed at the uninjured, black haired reaper's growing frustration. "I am the same as her," she revealed, pointing at the lavender haired petite. "I only have one functioning eye, Martin. This one is fake." A squishy pop echoed through the silent library as the newly revealed Rarity removed the false green eye, exposing an empty void on the left side of her face that had been robbed of the glowing sapphire jewel it once housed.

"What the-" the high ranking reaper was cut off.

"First order of business: survival. I am the Prophet of my people. I had to do what it took to keep Stella alive, even if it meant playing your whore in the project you masterminded. The Conduit is here and it is her. The Prophecy will be fulfilled. You can vanquish Nightmares, Martin. You have the arrogance to take on a Legend, Martin. For some reason, you still fear the Shadow. I wonder why that is?" The albino held the fraudulent eye between her thumb and forefinger. "Marcus took my eye. I miss him dearly. To answer your question from earlier, he and I were together for nearly two centuries. He was there after you took _her,_ and then you had the audacity to send your bitch to take him from me and from them. He was the only father they knew!" the albino shouted in reference to the petite's loss. She turned and faced the injured Dispatch manager with green fire burning hot vengeance in her sole eye. "May the Goddess curse you, William T. Spears. May Her burning Wrath come down upon you without mercy. You took the only man I've ever loved and the only father she ever knew. You stole her dignity, you broke her, you objectified her, you stole her from the Shadow who tried in vain to protect her-you and Martin both-and you showed no mercy or compassion to her even once when she begged you for it. The Goddess shows no mercy to Her enemies and neither do we. The Conduit is here, and the Goddess will avenge Her Choicest Fruit and the wrongs done them through her. In the name of the Goddess, I curse you, William T. Spears. You will die."

+How did you not know?+

~I had a feeling, but I didn't want to say anything.~

+A wise decision. Are you ready to stand with me as Sisters in the Eyes of our Mistress?+

~Let us end it in its natural course as She intends.~

+You are wise in spite of your youth.+

The reaper with the golden glasses tried to wrap his closed mind around the recent revelation put forth by the albino he once had his heart set on claiming. From the corner of his chartreuse eye, the twisted body of the male Empath lying face down in a pool of his own acid eaten insides made him temporarily forget about the woman's blabbering curses. "Did you do that?" he accused, pointing at Emily.

"I did," the petite confidently admitted. "He felt the need to make his final exit, so I helped him."

"Her work is really quite lovely. Hehehe. I've had the pleasure of making them beautiful for the most important day of their lives," the mortician piped in, laughing wildly at his own irony. He smiled down to his significantly shorter lover. "Isn't that right, Lovely?"

Despite the grave danger she was in, the way the legendary reaper smiled at her made tumblers in the lock of her secret place start to turn in rapid succession. "Yes," she replied softly with a dusting of pink spreading over her cheeks.

*You look so cute when you blush.*

His sweet thought jovially dancing in her head only served to deepen her blush from an innocent pink to a fevered red.

"Crevan, I don't even know where to start. You've always been strange, but-"

The copy was cut off by the original this time. "Then answer my question. Why did you clone my Lovely?" His tone was dark and intimidating. His acidic eyes held a malicious intent to kill within their insane depths. Within seconds, the silver haired reaper's crescent blade was at the other man's throat. "This is getting boring. You've always envied me. The pieces of shit that couldn't take my weapon envied me and they paid with their lives for trying to take what's mine. Now you wish to harm my Lovely. It isn't just envy with you, Gaines. We've sparred before and you've lost. I doubt you could stand up to Grell."

The redhead perked up at hearing her name and flashed the silver reaper a toothy grin. "I'm not even fired up today, and see what I can do." She winked and pointed at the injured manager with her nail file. He was still standing tall in spite of the healing cuts, bruises and broken bones. "The one on his face is from my chainsaw, but I have my reasons," she said nonchalantly as she resumed filing her nails.

"Hell hath no fury, Spears..." the silver reaper burst into a round of maniacal laughter.

"Crevan, it's none of _your_ fucking business what I do with _my_ property!" the katana wielding reaper roared, immediately silencing the mad mortician's outburst of laughter.

"It _is_ my business what you do with _my_ mate. _She_ is _not_ property, nor is _she_ an object. _She_ is a _woman,_ and _she_ is to remain free!" the silver legend stated emphatically as a menacing grin spread over his lips.

"It's a weapon, Crevan! Stop thinking with your dick and get it through your thick skull!" the other retorted, taking a swing at the silver haired reaper with the sharp blade of his katana only to have it blocked by the legendary crescent blade of the mad reaper. 

The Rarities watched alongside Red Death as the elder reapers fought over the petite. Like the red reaper, they were growing bored with the spectacle. Unlike the red reaper, they had a vested interest in exposing the high ranking, katana wielding asshole for what he is. "Her mind is a weapon, you fool!" the exasperated albino snapped. "You started 'Project 0' covertly at the latter phase of the eugenics project. After I fucked you senseless, you told me, and I quote: 'January is the ultimate weapon. I don't actually intend to destroy it, but to keep it and study it, and build an army of clones capable of total destruction.' Then, as an aside, you mentioned your concern for keeping the clones free of independent thought should they be merged with the Will of the Formless One. I have bad news for you, sunshine, they recognized Adrian Crevan and rejected the Will."

"How do you know?" both long haired reapers inquired in unison.

The albino grinned knowingly and pointed to her empty eye socket. "I am the Seer and the Prophet of my people."


	26. Extraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =  
> Emily's innermost thoughts +
> 
> Thanks for stopping by and checking out my story. I'm sorry for the ultra slow update. I've been dealing with some stupid issues outside the world of fanfic, writing, and my chief occupation of art in general. So, yes, I will be finishing this fic.
> 
> This isn't one of my best chapters as it is primarily OC-centric, but it does have a bit of backstory regarding my OCs and how it all ties together with Undertaker in order to provide more depth. Spoilers for the upcoming multi chap may be hiding within the text. Light yuri as part of a religious ritual contained within. Remember the OCs are from a totally different culture. ***You have been warned.***

The Prophet held the lavender winter close in a protective, sisterly embrace as she narrowed her remaining eye at the black haired copy of the legend. "I am the Servant of my Mistress as is she, and it has been my duty to see to it that Stella lives to fulfill the Goddess' Holy Word."

The bitter, black haired reaper sourly laughed at the abnormally tall albino and the glaring petite. "So, you're both zealous whores?"

"No, just me," the albino flatly admitted. "What she did was against her will."

"How rich! Crevan, I didn't know you had it in you! You devoted yourself to a whore!" the katana wielder mocked. "I _told_ you that thing is just property."

The silver reaper simply responded with silent fury flashing in his acidic eyes as he attacked the man who always envied him with the legendary crescent blade of his Death Scythe. The more cruel the words hurled from the imposing reaper's mouth regarding the petite were, the more bloodthirsty her mate became. The fighting grew to a frenzied pace as the high ranked reaper hurled more insults at the silver haired man. Three more reapers jumped into the fight; the chainsaw wielder and her junior coming to defend the angry, obsidian eyed Rarity, and the now healed Dispatch manager coming to oppose them. 

+There is something I must tell you, but we must go.+

The petite nodded in agreement with her Sister in the Goddess still clutching her tightly. Together they vanished to a private place, narrowly avoiding the chaotic onslaught of Death Scythes as the fighting intensified.

xxxxxx

Somewhere within the shadows, a presence who was everywhere and nowhere at once just happened to pass by at a most inopportune time. The darkness in the depths of his eyes made the deepest pits of Hell shine like the sun, and the deep seeded emotion glaring down at the black haired men made his customary wrath appear happy in comparison as he observed the degrading exchange below. More than anything, he wanted to go back in time and give in to his feelings, just this once. His fingers drifted down the curved spike in his left ear as they often do when he thinks of _her._

"I know you're none of the cruel things they say about you, my beautiful love," he whispered in an eerily haunting voice into the shadows. "I've always known."

xxxxxx

The Rarities' glowing eyes lit up a dark corner of the catacombs nearby the place where silver and lavender made love for what would be the last time the petite would remember him as she is at present. They felt at peace in each other's arms away from the violence, away from the cruel epithets always spewed forth by others regarding not only their race, but their way of life as Rarities. The Prophet and the Conduit took brief respite in each other, counting down the minutes of the struck Hour.

"I loved him, you know," the albino began. "Had I not vowed to never sever from _her,_ I would've let Marcus claim me. It was Martin who killed _her_ in the most disgraceful of ways. He flayed _her_ right after raping _her_ just because _she_ was a demoness. _She_ wronged no one, nor did _she_ scorn the Goddess. _She_ knew of my role and always encouraged me to keep my faith." The unusually tall Empath opened her watch face. "Shortly after _she_ was slain by that bastard I played the whore to for so many years, I met Marcus and a friend of his. Incidentally, I became friends with him. Marcus and I fell in love and the rest is history. I still keep in contact with my old friend from time to time."

"Are you talking about Adrian?" the petite Rarity inquired.

"No," the taller female inaudibly whispered with guilt heavily weighing her heart. "I've known that he was probably destined for you from the moment you spoke of him. I could tell by the strange glow in your eyes. The one I speak of is someone else. He is a Shadow feared among all but Legends and Nightmares. He wanted me to tell you that he never thought of you as an object."

The petite's mismatched eyes glowed with dull confusion as any chance at reclaiming the memory evaded her. "I don't know who you're talking about. I forgot all about Adrian for the longest time, and if it wasn't for..." Tears began to fall as she trailed off thinking about how her silver love was always so gentle with her and so devoted to her and always there to pull her back to the light from the darkness of other realities. "I may never have remembered."

"I know," the albino softly cooed. "Would you like to know who it is that's suffering over you?"

"I'd rather know more about what all of this means," the weapon anxiously demanded. "Why me? How do these people know me? Somehow, I know of the ancients of Adrian's race, but I don't know who they are. I remember our homeland being destroyed, but I don't remember _it._ I know my memory wasn't erased, but I can't help but feel as though parts of it have been purposefully extracted. Whether out of malicious intent or random chance, I know not." Vibrant azure and grass green irises lit up the darkness they rested within as she made her pleas. "Like you, I made a vow to never sever from my silver love, and I also requested that he alone reap me when the time comes."

"You are merged with the Formless One, therefore-"

"-I cannot be collected," the petite finished. "When the Eye aligned Itself to the appointed Hour, the Goddess revealed a great many things to me. I will find a way, and it will be revealed at the appointed time. He will know, as will I. The Formless One has been accepted by our Mistress, Emily. I am One with It in complete totality. If we sever, we also sever from him, and vows will be broken."

The lavender haired woman's unexpected revelation caught the white Rarity totally off guard. "How did you...How..."

"The night Legendary Death claimed me, I knew what it felt like to feel wanted, to feel truly desired, to feel pain wrapped in pleasure without objectification, to feel loved. When I slept, the Formless One awoke and beheld my love, and spoke its first words aloud, and despite the hideous sound of its voice, my love still showed it the same gentleness and devotion he shows me. The Formless One freely chose to learn love, and when It speaks to him..." The female's hands shot out and gripped the Prophet's head by various pressure points. She locked her glowing eyes on the other's single green light and descended on her in an invasive, ritualistic kiss.

The albino winced as two consciousnesses invaded her mind. =I am she. She is me. We are One. One mind, One being, unseverable. We can exist as One with Legendary Death as he does with us. I feel what she feels. Her love is my love. My love is her love. We are his, Legendary Death's treasure with whom we will never sever.=

Long fingers slid through lavender silk, seeking out the other's pressure points as the ritual continued with each female passionately extracting unspoken secrets from the other. +You truly are the Conduit. I can die avenging my lost loves with honor. Stella, how I wish our homeland wasn't destroyed by beautiful harbingers of death and destruction. The dual suns shined bright in a blood red sky every long day, and the silver moon hung lowly against short, dark nights dotted with bright stars. When the gentle breeze blew swirling sand around the monument to our Mother, it gave us hope that the Day would come soon that those who wronged us would burn in her Divine Wrath; that we would take the desert for our own save for those who did right by us. When I was your age, our homeland still had faith. The desert was still at peace, and Rarities still roamed freely among the people without fear. There was no starvation. The Famine came upon the heel of the genocide of the Transcendentals and the resulting war of retribution we fought with the angels.+

~Famine?~

+The other Empaths turned against us due to our vulgar display of power. They began to fear us and our power. They underestimated just how brutal we can be when provoked. Those of us who took lovers of our own race were spurned, completely denied of that which we need the most out of everything,-+

~-Affection.~

+We were shunned and isolated, and since the Famine, it became mandatory for parents to give their infant Rarities up to the Temple, whereas in the past, it was voluntary. Demons may be bothersome at times, but they have always been allies to Rarities in the past.+

The petite maneuvered herself on top of the former eugenicist as she tasted her divine secrets. =I have shielded her from the ugliest parts of the past and I shall continue to do so until the time comes. Her secrets, reveal them to me.=

The abnormally tall Rarity capitulated to the Ikiryo's demand without delay. The petite's large, lupine eyes went wide as she was flipped onto her back, overpowered by the dominant female sharing the ugliest parts of the past with the darkest part of her. Blurred images flowing between two conscious minds not her own passed by, some of which she recognized, others she didn't. Then, she saw _him_ again. The same one on the blood soaked celluloid from the freshly healed scythe wound on her arm. Empathetic tears streamed down her face at the sight of the familiar stranger's anguish. Empathy turned to mortified guilt as images of herself in a large, brightly lit room,

~The library!~

cowering before her lover in fear, begging not to be punished flashed before her. The last thing she caught a glimpse of was the trademark grin betraying the sympathetic sadness in his eyes while he studied her as she was trapped between his reality and hers. ~Oh my Goddess, why?~

The albino stopped the ritual with concern glowing in her sole, green eye. "Are you ok, Stella?" she softly asked, wiping away the girl's tears. "You saw him, didn't you?" 

"Yes, I still don't know who he is, but he looks so sad and empty. I saw Adrian, too, on a day I don't remember, but I saw myself cowering in fear of him. He had his big, creepy grin on his face, but his eyes were so sad because he didn't understand why I was begging him not to punish me." The female bowed her head and let slip a few bitter tears. "I don't even remember that day," she tearfully confessed.

"You were trapped between two realities. The last time you blocked something like that out in totality was when you hit Mae, but she knew what happened to you and she knew you sacrificed your power for her, so she never retaliated or became angry. She merely sympathized and never wanted to leave your side. Mae always knew you belonged to Adrian," the albino woman revealed. "She was so perceptive. You still miss her and he knows it. How does he feel about your attachment to her in relation to his possessive nature?"

"Sympathetic," the divine creature answered truthfully. "He knows she and I were special to each other, he knows of our culture's beliefs, and he knows that it was Fate-Her Will-that brought him and I together." Small fingers traced the outline of the taller woman's void eye socket. "How will you avenge Marcus and the demoness you remain bonded to if you sacrificed half the power you need to do so?"

"I don't know, but I'll find a way."

"I'll let you share the Formless One with me if It grants you Its permission. You are a Rarity just as I am, and no longer should you play the whore to Martin Gaines. He stole the man and woman you loved, and by the laws of _our_ faith, he must die by your hand, and yours alone. The Formless One's Will can compensate for your sacrifice. Do you want to try?" The petite's intensely demanding lights gave the Prophet no other choice but to yield to her logic. "Close your eye," the Conduit commanded softly as she took the female's hands in hers.

~One.~

=One.=

~We are One.~

=We are One.=

~Loved ones stolen must be avenged. She who cared for you decades ago sacrificed much of her power, thus, preventing her to avenge her loss according to the laws of our faith.~

=Emily, you cared for me in years past when others of your race despised me. I shall repay your kindness and share consciousness with you and she. Be warned, you are not she. I will be a parasite to you, and should the remainder of me not be given back to she, you will descend into an abyss of madness from which there is no way out. Fulfill the laws of your faith and return the rest of me to she.=

+I am grateful for your kindness, Formless One.+

=And I, yours, Prophet.=

Delicate fingers slowly slid through white tresses as the petite pulled the older Rarity in for a passionate kiss, allowing her to extract enough of the Formless One's Will to compensate for the sacrificial sapphire. Both females purred from the painful pleasure of the ritual extraction as a merging of three minds took place. 

~One.~

=One.=

+One.+

~=+We are One.+=~

+I shall avenge _her_ and my love, Marcus.+

xxxxxx

When the Rarities reappeared amidst the chaos, the silver haired reaper noticed something different about the icy weapon's eyes-no, all of her-as though she emerged enlightened from a month long dark retreat. The tall albino beside her was a malicious phantom with a single black pit and an emerald glaring in vivid brightness against black velvet at the pony tailed reaper fighting against a madman and a very pissed off redhead. Both ethereal women with darkness surrounding brilliant jewels strategically observed the reapers fighting over the legend's fate, and their hearts went out to the young, blond reaper with the awkward contraption stuck fighting his fully healed, tyrant boss on his own. The mortician glanced back again at the Rarities, and indeed, his blurry vision was not playing tricks on him; both otherworldly women standing silently in the midst of slashing blades housed the Ikiryo.

*Shared consciousness.*


	27. Traitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =  
> Emily's innermost thoughts +
> 
> Thanks for stopping by and giving my story a good once over. Almost done. Yay! So, who's ready for an accidental confession of love from one reaper to another, and an emotional outburst from William T. Spears? You knew it was coming. William's eyebrow can only twitch so much before he loses his temper. Oh yeah, can't forget about reaper drama!!!  
> This chapter contains suicide via mind control, gore, disembowelment, disparaging remarks regarding Grell's gender. ***You have been warned.***  
> Enjoy!

The parasitic albino and the petite stood calmly, strategically watching and waiting amongst the fighting reapers. To them, the reasons for the fighting had become nothing more than trite excuses since they had emerged from the catacombs as a single consciousness. The season of the winter was drawing to its end and the albino had yet to carry out her revenge by the laws of her people. Neither Rarity cared anymore about the onslaught of Death Scythes blindly flying about in varying directions, many of the blows narrowly missing them. Time was neither their friend nor their foe, it merely existed as a guidepost of the Goddess' plan for the Conduit. Watching, waiting, strategically sensing their environment as the reapers fought over the fate of divinity. What a petty reason to shed blood.

~This ends now.~

+Agreed, Sister.+

xxxxxx

Bones cracked with sickening loudness, and massive quantities of blood gushed from a vicious puncture wound to the blond reaper's shoulder by the business end of his boss' pruning shears. A shriek of pain slipped from the young reaper's mouth as he fell to the floor grasping at his profusely bleeding shoulder, resulting in the relinquishment of his beloved lawnmower. Unfortunately, the redhead wasn't quick enough to block the deadly precision of the pruners with her chainsaw in time to prevent her subordinate's injury. Torn between her junior's cries for help and acting on her homicidal rage and painting the former object of her desire's drab little world a beautiful red, she chose the former. Red just didn't suit her cute little subordinate.

The normally stoic reaper cast aside his facade and allowed his hidden rage to show itself to anyone who dared to look. With a considerable amount of blood coagulating on his face from the gnarled cut, courtesy of Red Death's chainsaw, the devil himself would piss his pants in fear at the deranged fury aflame in the golden green eyes of the Dispatch manager. "SUTCLIFF! You and Knox have been nothing but thorns in my side! YOU, especially!" His furious roar burst from his mouth like fire. "If I had my way, I would have killed you during our final exam, but no, you had to save my ass from those fucking runaway records, thereby putting me in _your_ debt! Fuck you, Sutcliff! No one loves you! No one ever will! No one here even likes you! You're nothing but a worthless freak! Get it through your thick skull, girly boy! You. Are. Nothing! Stop pretending you're a woman, you worthless guttersnipe, and maybe, just maybe, people around here might show your stupid ass some of the respect you crave."

The pretty red reaper held back tears from hearing the disparaging words spoken by her boss. Though she didn't love him anymore, it still didn't change the fact that it hurt to have such cruel things said to and about her, especially regarding her gender. "You mean nothing to me, William. I stopped loving you when I found out what you did, when I found _her_ half dead, bound to a table in some isolated room, and when I found out what you did to those little girls. I'm not entirely without morals, William. It's just that mine don't align with what passes for yours."

"You're wrong, Spears-senpai!" the injured lawnmower wielder shouted. "Grell-senpai has plenty of friends, and I...I love her. So, you can take what you said and shove it up your ass!"

The red reaper blushed slightly upon hearing her junior's sudden confession. "Looks like you're wrong again, _William._ Are you mad because Undertaker's in love with January? You keep glaring at her every time she looks at him. Gods, you are so boring!" The redhead turned on her heel in an angry huff with a flip of her blood red hair and headed toward her subordinate to render him aid. At the sound of enraged pruners extending in her direction, the reaper in red efficiently dodged the attack without turning around or looking back. "Really, William, I think you like it when I play with my chainsaw. You and I both know I can kill you with my bare hands and your precious pole won't be able to protect you." The reaper's toxic green, catlike eyes glared murderous fury at the tyrant as she peeked over her shoulder. "And I don't have to fly into a fit of rage to do that, either." Red Death continued her approach to the injured reaper, leaving a furious black haired manager in her wake.

"I meant what I said, Grell," the mowing reaper reaffirmed. "I've loved you for a while now. I just didn't know how to tell you because you're my senpai and all."

The redhead bit her lip and stared into her subordinate's eyes, except she couldn't really look at him that way anymore. "That made me feel really special." Before he could respond, the red god of death kissed the young man that had been harboring feelings for her since the day they met with smoldering passion. "Let's get you to the infirmary, Ronnie. No offense, but blood red doesn't suit you."

A soft smile graced the parasitic albino's features as she beheld the red and yellow reapers. +I knew the day would come when they would find love with each other. It shall surely last.+

xxxxxx

The petite Rarity watched her silver haired lover fight with fluid savagery from a new perspective, one she was just beginning to understand. She felt nostalgic

~As in the days before the experiments.~

and enlightened at the same time.

~I am One in absolute Totality.~

She was complete. Although, at the moment she was sharing consciousness with the Prophet, the feeling of Oneness didn't change. She had her silver reaper from whom she would never sever and that was all that mattered to her in the end. She began to cry, wishing the ordeal would just be over; better yet, wishing that it never happened, that she would be tucked safely in the legend's arms, bodies entwined, sleeping peacefully with his thin, silver braid twisted around her delicate fingers. "Why can't we just divert from Her plan, just this once?" she murmured.

~We will never sever.~

The lavender petite's eyes glowed in awe as the man of legendary beauty moved at inhuman speed with the graceful balance of a cat to avoid the incoming thrust of the pony tailed reaper's katana. The cacophony of shouts at the other side of the room were drowned out by the woman's singular focus on the way the legend's silver hair swirled about him as he moved, reigniting the feeling of nostalgia within her consciousness.

_"You're pretty...your hair looks like moonbeams. He's the pretty one, right Mae-Mae?..."_

Another current of tears washed over her pale face when she remembered where the nostalgic feeling came from. "Your hair looks like moonbeams...You're _my_ 'pretty one', Adrian."

Something silver glinting in the bright lights of the library near the male Empath's corpse captured the Rarity's attention. The blade of a knife, perhaps?

_~A silver knife cleverly concealed within a ragged brown coat of the psychotic killer rapist in a dark, dirty alley waiting for the easiest prey...It was that day that I caused death to escape death only to take refuge in the arms of Death. A refuge that soon became my home.~_

Just like that day, a silver knife had been hiding inside the male's inner pocket. Without anyone noticing, the petite stole away the knife within the folds of her gown to the best of its severely limited ability. Unlike in times past, she would now have total control over the sharp object as her time was now.

xxxxxx

The silver reaper landed a near devastating blow to his opponent who jumped back in time, narrowly escaping disembowelment. Darkness flashed over chartreuse double irises as the badly mauled copy of the legend glared into phosphorescent green when the sudden realization hit him that he was sporting a long, deep gash over his abdomen, courtesy of Legendary Death.

"You're welcome," the madman drawled sarcastically between insane bouts of laughter. "Consider it payback, with interest, for the pinky." The grinning mad reaper wiggled his scarred pinky finger at the envious ancient. "Why so envious, Gaines? You've always been this way with me. It can't be my charm and wit. No...wait, is it the manifestation of fear that inspires all to throw themselves at my mercy? No...that was Marcus...Oh, wait, I know! It's because I can be everywhere and nowhere at the same time...no, that's the Gray Shadow. I remember now, Gaines, why you're so envious of me. Because I don't have to do a fucking thing to get what I want. I look at them and they throw themselves at me for the reaping. That's something _you_ could never accomplish." The silver legend's malicious grin grew darker as he continued taking pot shots at his enemy, both physically and mentally. 

"Fuck you, Crevan! You and those two bastards were just sadistic assholes when you weren't reaping," the other accused as he lunged at the legend, aiming for his heart, only to be effortlessly blocked by the underside of the massive crescent blade. "You have just as much of a bloodthirsty reputation as that scrawny asshole who calls himself my boss. Does your mate know about your killing sprees from eons past? Does she know you'll fuck a woman and turn around and fuck a man, too? In fact, are _you_ even aware of the sick shit that _she's_ done?"

Maniacal laughter filled the room, however, acidic wrath boiled in the depths of the mad legend's eyes instead of the customary mirth that usually accompanied that particular laugh. "I believe I did, and if I remember correctly, we made alternative use of a coffin that night...many times. It's more than just envy with you. You want what I have, but you will never get it. All you have is cruelty...so crude, don't you think? Sadism, on the other hand, is cruelty with class." The cackling madman took his time strategically landing small blows to his opponent's extremities as he goaded him on to expend his remaining energy. "Doesn't this remind you of the good old days, hm? Only this time I'm going to kill you." 

A wide, malicious grin on the legendary reaper's scarred visage was the high ranking reaper's cue to quickly strategize as he was never able to guess what the silver haired man was thinking once he had that look on his face. As soon as he turned his back in a desperate bid to outmaneuver his revenge driven opponent, the angry, burning pain of splitting skin and free flowing blood alerted his senses to the fact that a certain crescent blade of a certain Death Scythe just slashed his back open down to the bone. Overwhelmed by the massive blood loss and burning torture his body inflicted upon him, the black haired reaper with the golden glasses fell to the floor on the verge of unconsciousness until something, or rather, someone inside his head prevented it. Incidentally, that same force also happened to stop his attacker from driving his wicked Death Scythe straight into his chest.

+No, not yet.+ The white haired woman's cold, husky voice pierced through her ex boss' subconscious.

"What the hell?" The reaper felt himself being lifted into an upright position. "Emily, what's going on here?"

+You can't have _her. She_ is mine. I was never yours, nor will I ever be no matter how much you wanted me. I will avenge _her_ and I will avenge Marcus. I will avenge the sins you committed against the Conduit according to the laws of my faith. No longer am I playing your whore. I am redeeming myself in the Eyes of my Mother.+

=Your implement of Death is one carried by those who value honor. A concept of which you have no grasp.=

+You are not worthy of your own godhood. You who raped and flayed my beloved while _she_ was still alive for the sole reason of _her_ being one from the depths of Hell.+

"That demon bitch was _yours?_ You refused _me_ because of some fucking demon? And Marcus, too?" the raven haired reaper exclaimed in disbelief. "You knew how I felt about you. I told you only once, but you know how I am. I told you, and I meant it, that I'd forgo all others if you'd be mine, but to know that you bound yourself to a demon...I don't even know what to say! It's repulsive! Emily, dammit, I really did love you," the high ranking reaper said lowly. "I did what you asked that day. I didn't hurt her."

+Yet you still regard her as nothing more than property, an object, a whore, not the divine being she is. You did it for me, not because you wanted to.+

The reaper unconsciously pointed his katana at himself. "If only you knew, Emily."

xxxxxx

The youngest of the three remaining reapers decided to take advantage of his elders' states of duress and attack the unoccupied weapon while he could. The stone faced manager extended his pruners, aiming for the lavender haired girl's throat, however, his effort was thwarted when he suddenly found himself sailing through the air until he hit the wall on the opposite side of the room with a hard thud. Dust and chunks of marble fell into the Dispatch manager's disheveled hair as he was pushed further into the crater his body formed within the wall. Mismatched, glowing eyes blazing with the fury of the Goddess glared at the dazed pruner wielder.

~Leave us alone, Spears.~

The short haired reaper tried in vain to shake the petite's voice free from his mind, but had no luck as she was the key that unlocked the fortress of his mind. He tried to push himself free from the crater in the wall, but as long as her glaring eyes were trained on him, he was immobilized with no choice but to watch the events before him unfold, and to deal with...her.

~Why do you hate Rarities, Spears? Why do you hate me? I have never wronged you.~

"Please refrain from associating yourself with me," the pinned reaper gritted out from between clenched teeth. "It's bad enough that you have corrupted Crevan."

~I have corrupted no one, Spears. Adrian was free to throw me out of his home, and his life, at any time, and he still is. I will not object to _his_ choice, however, _I_ will know whether or not his choice was truly his. One does not cage a wild animal and expect it to be happy in its confines. Again, tell me how I corrupted Adrian.~

The usually stoic reaper unsuccessfully tried to move for a second time. "You have him indoctrinated into that ridiculous cult of yours!" he shouted.

~I had no idea that you were such a comedian, Spears! Adrian is free to believe as he chooses, and his choices do not include my religion. I love him the way he is: sadistic, affectionate, beautiful, wild, and free.~

The fuming, suit clad reaper growled at the girl. "I still think you're a lying whore. I remember how you corrupted him fifty-one years ago when we destroyed your filthy realm. It's because of _YOU_ that he deserted! If Jones hadn't of brought you and that little green haired bitch back...If you would've just kept your filthy, whore mouth shut and just not talked to him...He falls so easily for flattery..." The enraged manager trailed off, glaring loathing revulsion at the petite, unable to coherently finish a thought. 

~You do realize I was five at the time.~

"I don't care! Your childish flattery turned two good reapers into traitors!" the pruner wielding man bellowed.

~Speaking of traitors, take a look at your boss. Not even I was completely aware that I was being cloned, although I had my suspicions. Did you?~

"For the most part, no," the lower ranked manager answered truthfully as he looked upon the tall female's wrath being unleashed upon his boss. "How much more repulsive can your race get?"

~Vengeance is in the eye of the beholder, Spears. He took what was hers, now she's paying him back in kind according to our laws and customs. It's no stranger than what you were planning to do with Adrian, and more humane than what you've done to me, and kinder than what the two of you allowed to happen to my Sisters. The Goddess is wise. She is kind and merciful to those who do right by Her, but She merciless to those who wrong Her and Her Choicest Fruit.~

xxxxxx

+If only I knew what, Martin?+

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, and neither would he," the black haired copy of a legend hissed.

"Oh, do tell, I would like to know what it is I wouldn't believe," the silver haired man drawled from his uncomfortable position suspended in midair.

"No, I don't believe I will. I won't give you the satisfaction of giving you everything you want, Crevan," the forgery spat through pained groans.

+Maaaartin+ The parasitic Empath's haunting, husky voice cooed from deep within his mind. +Maaaartin, do yourself a favor and put yourself out of your misery. I know those cuts must hurt. Does it hurt, Martin? Does it hurt the way I hurt for years after you took the ones I loved from me?+

=The blood of the corrupt burns like fire.=

The black haired reaper screamed louder and louder until it became a shrill, demonic shriek as his bleeding wounds began eating the surrounding flesh like corrosive acid. "I did what was necessary and you know it!" he shouted through mouthfuls of boiling blood.

+Was any of it _truly_ necessary?+

Anguished shrieks followed in response as the corroding man's katana inched closer to his stomach.

+It hurts doesn't it? Feel as I feel. Burn as I burn. My vengeance is your pain. My wrath is your end. Atone for your sins, Martin Gaines. Finish the cut he started. Let it go. Let it _all_ go, and perhaps all may be forgiven in the next world.+

The shrieking reaper plunged his Death Scythe deep into his abdomen and slashed it open, using the mortician's fresh gash as a guide. Rancid, sizzling guts eagerly jumped out of their respective flesh encasement to their foul death on the marble floor below. As with those who fell victim to the prototype, the corrosive blooded, flesh eaten forgery of a legend would also have records refusing to leave its burnt out husk.

+That's better.+

The white Rarity released her grip on the elder reapers' realities as one collapsed in a pool of boiling blood and acid eaten guts, and the other landed awkwardly on his feet growling out a long string of expletives. She smiled to herself in satisfaction without a single care that the silver reaper was glaring curious daggers at her for denying him his kill. "Yes, that's better," she quietly mused. "My vengeance is mine and has been done unto he who wronged me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take note, Grell will always be referred to as the pretty lady she is unless the context call for the use of a masculine pronoun. If Grell says she's a she, then dammit, she's a she!


	28. Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts  
> the Yurei/Ikiryo's innermost thoughts =  
> Emily's innermost thoughts +
> 
> Thanks for the reads, it's much appreciated. Well now, I'm almost through with this wonderful story of twisting, turning, fateful weirdness. Fantastic!  
> This chapter contains light yuri and suicide. ***You have been warned.***  
> Enjoy.

"...Yes, that's better..." the parasite ridden Rarity smiled to herself as the madness set in. Furious green fire glowing in the night fixed its target on the silver haired reaper as the albino wrenched the mangled forgery's katana from beneath his twisted, coagulated remains. He, in turn, readied his weapon to defend himself and his Lovely from the madwoman riddled with a parasitic consciousness. "You look just like the motherfucker who had me play the whore-"

A soft, airy voice rang out loud over the maddening din swirling within the unusually tall Rarity's subconscious. ~Emily, stop! Give it back! Don't touch what's mine! You still house the Formless One, give it back!~

+Stella?+

The eliminated reaper's Death Scythe was pried from the parasitic woman's hands by smaller, more delicate hands than hers. ~Your loved ones have been avenged. I need what's mine returned to me.~

+The madness it spoke of...take it back...now...while I still have some clarity.+

The petite nodded, indicating that she understood the other's broken thoughts. In the way of their people, the Prophet returned the borrowed consciousness to the Conduit by way of a fiery kiss. Three eyes glowing beneath translucent lids increased in intensity as the albino and the petite slid slender fingers through each other's silky strands, seeking certain pressure points on their heads to begin the ritual.

+One.+

=One.=

+We are not One.+

=We are not One.=

+I must return You to She, for She is You and You are She, Formless One. I am grateful for Your assistance in avenging my loves' unjust deaths. My vengeance is complete. I can die with honor, and I am redeemed in the Eyes of my Mistress. The Prophecy will be fulfilled; Her Holy Words carried out.+

=I thank you for having the wisdom for listening to She and remembering my warning. She is me and I am She. We are One. Your work here is done.=

+I am pleased that we will now sever, Formless One.+

=As am I, Prophet. They await you in the Void.=

+I look forward to joining them soon.+

=One.=

~One.~

=We are One.=

~We are One.~

=~I am you. You are me. We will never sever.~=

Both women moaned lowly into the kiss as the pleasured pain of shared consciousness came to a bittersweet end. Tears inadvertently rolled down the lavender ice's face as the taller female ended the ritualistic kiss. "What's wrong? Did you see _him_ again?" she asked in an inaudible whisper.

"Yes, I just...The unfathomable sadness in _his_ beautiful eyes makes me sad, too. If you, or anyone else, for that matter, looked that way I'd be sad." The divine weapon looked to her bewildered lover. "Especially if it was Adrian, I'd kill myself if he looked that sad. It was as though _he_ lost everything, but was waiting for the day that vengeance would claim _him_ so _he_ could be happy again."

"Indeed, that it sad, Stella. I have one last thing I must tell you before I go. Everything has been set in motion to expose the one who has wronged you. Fulfill the Prophecy, and end this as the Goddess intends. The minutes are dwindling down. You know what you must do, Stella. I am no longer needed in this world anymore." The former eugenicist picked up the dead reaper's katana from where it landed, just inches from the bewildered, yet still defensive, silver reaper's feet. "My apologies, Adrian Crevan, the Ikiryo is a parasite to a mind it's not meant to be housed within. My attempted attack on you was unwarranted. You know, Marcus told me so much about you. It's too bad that we couldn't meet under happier circumstances."

"Why did he take your eye? I've been curious about that since you've mentioned it." The mad reaper still did not lower his defenses despite the inquisitive glint in his eyes.

"Because he knew," the tall female replied solemnly. "I needed to blend in. Among my race, I am a myth to all but Rarities as they have not lost their faith."

"So, you're the one she spoke of that was a demon's-"

"Demoness," the Prophet corrected. "I am. I suppose she told you only tall women are Rarities, but she may have neglected to tell you that a tall albino is the Prophet of her people. She may not have remembered. No matter, my task is complete, my loved ones avenged according to the laws of my faith, and I have finally met you, Legendary Death, the Created One, first in the Trinity of Sadists. Don't look at me like a confused puppy. Rarities thrive on affection, but we have our dark side just as you, as violent as you are, have your affectionate side. Never have I seen anyone of any race so purely devoted to anyone as you are to Stella. You know, Gaines wasn't wrong about the 'sick shit' she's done under her own power. It's more sadistic than what you've seen so far. We Rarities are more savage than we let on." The white haired woman took her place beside her Sister in the Goddess. "Stella, my work here is complete. You know what you must do."

"Emily, I-"

The sudden metallic click of pruning shears swiftly extending through the air cut the petite off along with the stray lavender braid identical to her lover's. The owner of the precise Death Scythe was in full attack mode as he came bearing down on his target with an uncharacteristic snarl on his face. The mad legend knew he was coming for his precious treasure, and he was all too happy to dispatch the tyrannical manager in her defense.

*No one takes what's mine.*

"Blasphemy!" the Rarities shrieked in unison as the lavender haired woman collapsed to the floor to avoid another oncoming attack from the fearsome, suit clad reaper's strange weapon.

"The penalty is death for what you have done!" the tall Rarity shouted as the man drew back his pruners.

The small female silently wept as she collected the special braid, no longer caring if the hateful, revenge driven Dispatch manager killed her on the spot.

~As long as he doesn't kill my Adrian.~

She knew deep down in her soul that her Legendary Death would protect her at any cost, even that of his own life. She flinched when the metallic clang of two Death Scythes collided, signalling the start of a new round of fighting.

_"You're always a woman to me...never an object..."_

+Stella, it is time for me to make my egress.+

The petite looked up from her melancholy musings and faced her Sister, the Prophet, with overflowing sadness in her eyes. Mismatched lights wavered, hairless brows knitted together as she beheld her Sister in the Goddess poised to fall upon a sword that spilled the blood of her loved ones and avenged their deaths in the end of all things. "No, Emily, don't go. I'll be alone."

"No you won't, you'll always have Adrian," the taller woman replied. "Our race is dead. Let the dead stay dead, but avenge them in the End of all things. Follow Her path as I must. Treasure Death as he treasures you." The albino bent down and kissed the petite's forehead. "You are truly the Conduit," she whispered with a soft smile.

The sound of ripping fabric and muted splashes of blood falling on marble floors alerted the wide eyed petite to the Prophet's great egress. "No, I won't watch," she murmured as the impaled Prophet fell in a pool of crimson while X-rated Cinematic Records flew out and were reabsorbed into the implement of her destruction. 

~The Prophet who played the whore is now redeemed in the Eyes of our Mistress.~ 

Fresh tears fell down like rain as she clutched the severed braid to her chest. How she longed for her mortician lover to kiss her with that same tender passion he did the night he gave her the braid she now clutched possessively in her delicate hands. He always made her feel special and beautiful; like a woman, never an object; always desired, wanted, and loved. She was special to him as he was to her.

_"Anything my Lovely needs, I will provide. Anything my Lovely wants, I will give. Anything my Lovely wishes, I will do," the mortician whispered to the sleeping winter storm. "I love you with all that I am and more."_

~I will die for you, Adrian.~

*If for _any_ reason you are taken from me, I will find you and get you back.*

~We will never sever, Adrian.~

Her small hand moved to the minimal folds of the cotton gown and produced the hidden knife. Light glinted off the polished silver as she turned the blade around in her hand, inspecting it for nothing in particular. Her kind always had a way of knowing when it was their time to go as demonstrated by the alignment of the Hour on her divine tattoo. They had an innate ability to predict their own end, down to the millisecond as exemplified by her request to be reaped by her legendary lover. Perhaps that's why Rarities didn't fear their own mortality as evidenced by the Prophet's great egress. Other Empaths lacked the sense of their own impending deaths, which is why the perverts begged for their lives when winter came. A bead of blood appeared on the Rarity's fingertip and trickled down in a fine, scarlet rivulet as she stared at it through a veil of bitter sorrow. The fear of death was absent from her mind and her heart, however, the fear of losing her silver love still lingered on. The grinding screech of metallic objects colliding against each other brought the Rarity out of her depressive haze and back into the present.

~And then there were two.~

xxxxxx

Pruning shears whizzed through the air and missed their intended target by a wide margin. "Sir, I still have orders to detain you for execution," the legend's former student insistently growled.

"Still as stiff as ever, Mr. Spears." The madman laughed as he took a devastating swing at the younger reaper, missing him by a hairsbreadth. Death Scythes collided again in a loud metallic, grating screech as the uptight, raven haired reaper closed the business end of his pruning shears around the legendary reaper's Death Scythe in a feeble attempt to wrench it from his grasp. "Why, William, I had no idea you were this _uninhibited._ Hehehe!" The mortician's signature grin oozed malice. "First, you take a few good _pokes_ at my Lovely with that ridiculous _pole_ of yours. Hehehehehe!" His malicious grin grew wider and his laughter darker at the irate reaper. "Hehehe. Now, you, _Chilly Willy,_ want to _rub_ your _puny pole_ all over _my shaft._ HAHAHAHAHAHA!" The silver haired man roared with laughter at the uptight reaper's mortified reaction to the innuendo laden accusations. Taking advantage of the younger reaper's flustered state, the elder swung his scythe down with intent to kill, but the younger jumped back at the last second, leaving behind a long gash splitting skin and staining the torn fabric of his expensive business suit with his sullied blood.

"I used to look up to you. I admired you, and in a way, I still do," the injured manager panted. "I tried to persuade upper management not to execute you. I told them you committed no crimes in the mortal realm. I did what I could." Once again composed, he mentally prepared for another attack from his former mentor.

"Shit!" The silver reaper clutched his sides as loud, insane, wild, cackling laughter rumbled out of him. "You're a funny one, aren't you, Spears? Are _you_ hitting on _me?"_ More cackling betraying the vengeful fury gleaming in the madman's eyes followed the vicious taunt. 

The short haired reaper only released an irritated growl in response as he extended his pruners with deadly precision, just barely missing the legendary object of his admiration. Death Scythes grated as they collided with each other over and over again while former student and former teacher dodged and parried each other for what seemed like an eternity. Blood was shed on both sides, more from the bespectacled reaper than the other. Despite the slashes from his former mentor's legendary scythe, the not so stoic reaper still had enough stamina to continue fighting the silver haired legend, which was impressive in itself. More loud cackling and metallic clangs reverberated throughout the library as Death Scythes collided with brutal, bone crushing force. Both men had their weapons at each other's throats, ready to dispatch the other on the spot, however, there was a hint of hesitation in the younger reaper's eyes.

~Most likely at the thought of having Adrian executed.~

"If you're going to do it, do it, Spears," Silver Death taunted. "This is getting boring."

"I only have orders to detain you...Sir," the other reaper replied icily. Out of the corner of his glaring green and gold eye, he spotted the weaponized winter alone and vulnerable. "But I no longer have a reason to keep _that_ alive." Repulsion flashed in his eyes as he glanced at the petite, however, he did not remove his Death Scythe from the legend's throat. First order of business: survival.

The Conduit bit back unnecessary tears as she cautiously approached the warring reapers, mindful of the evil efficiency of the Dispatch manager's weapon. His cold glare followed her until she finally reached her destination beside her mate. "No more fighting, please. Don't hurt Adrian." She made her soft demand with a certain hypnotic innocence in her emerald and sapphire eyes that even the enraged manager couldn't resist. She wrapped her arms around the mortician's waist and looked up at him with pleading lights glowing in her large, lupine eyes. The same glow that always captivated him every time they made love. 

* _That's_ what's different about her eyes now! It's the same parallel she made regarding mine compared to other reapers: the same but different. Just what in the ten circles of Hell went on with her and that woman in the catacombs earlier?*

The legend's corrosive glare softened and a hint of a smile played at his lips. "Anything for my Lovely," he replied in a soft whisper. He returned his attention to his opponent with calculated anger. "What say you, _Willy?_ Neither of us are going to back down, and frankly standing around with your _pole_ tickling my neck is boring. I prefer my Lovely's delightfully sweet, biting kisses instead. Hehehe." The legend's lover blushed in spite of her emotional turmoil.

"Agreed." Pruning shears cautiously went back to their respective designated area as did the wicked Death Scythe of a madman. "Why?" the disgusted manager spat as he observed the man he once idolized tightly embrace the Rarity. "Why _that,_ Crevan? What did it do to you?"

 _"She_ did not manipulate me, if that's what you mean, boy," the mortician harshly replied. "Why, you ask? Because we share a deep, inexplicable understanding of each other on an unspoken level. It's something a stiff like _you_ couldn't begin to understand. I'd be willing to bet that the first recycled suicide-the second legend among us-would have a better grip on feeling _anything_ than you, and we all know that he intentionally chooses not to feel. Ironic, given that he's such a passionate man. Oh, but I digress, Mr. Spears. I told you before I 'retired' not to be so goddamn stiff all the time and you'd go on to do great things. That didn't necessarily entail promotions. Sure, I was managerial class, but could you picture me being bound to a desk all day in meetings, bogged down by paperwork? That's not what I meant at all by what I said." The silver reaper shook his head sadly at his former student as he fed the petite's obsession with soothing strokes through pastel tresses.

"What did you mean?" the beaten, bloodied manager growled between grit teeth, struggling to rein in his urge to kill the lavender haired woman affectionately nuzzling the legendary reaper.

"Open your mind, Spears, be more perceptive. That young kid, Ronald Knox, is more perceptive than you have ever been. You may have the upper hand in combat for now, but with my dear, red reaper as his teacher, I'm sure he'll surpass you. How sad it is that I have failed with you, but we're getting off topic, are we not?" The silver haired man grinned at the younger reaper. "I also suggest that you stop referring to Stella as though she were an object, Spears. My Lovely is a woman. You above all should know that. After all, it was _you_ who marred her lovely legs with violence, among other things. Whatever your intention was at the time has no effect on me, she is still my Perfect Beauty." The irate manager's eyebrow twitched with barely contained rage as the legend he admired droned on about the Rarity still nuzzling into his chest. "It isn't a problem with Rarities you have, is it, Mr. Spears? You have a problem with _my_ Rarity in particular, don't you? I wonder what it could be? Let's see, you killed Marcus, you oversaw much the eugenics program, and supervised her collections most of the time, according to what she remembers. She's the only one you refer to in objectifying terms. Even Gaines had the courtesy to humanize her a couple of times when he was busy calling her a whore. So, what is it you aren't telling me?"

The irritated reaper avoided the question altogether by falling back on protocol and repeating the orders to detain his elder, but with aggressive action this time around. Before the fight escalated, the weapon threw the chronically irritated man across the room with a single thought.

"Don't kill him!" the lavender haired petite cried out. "He's mine, William T. Spears! You can't have him, he doesn't want to go with you." 

A glint of silver within the severed lavender braid caught the mortician's eye.

*What are you doing?*

~What I must. My time is now. Do not let your heart cloud your judgement.~ 

"My life for his, as She intends," the female stated in a low, grave voice.

"I still have my orders," the immobilized reaper coldly insisted.

"From a corpse?" the woman scoffed. "My life for his. Adrian's punishment is unwarranted. You, yourself, said he didn't deserve death. Here is your chance to do right by him at least once in your miserable, fucking life. Let him go. I'm useless to you, I always have been. Now that Gaines and the others are dead, and the clones are destroyed, I have no purpose for your realm. Adrian, on the other hand, is of more value to your people by his existence alone. Who was it that ordered his execution, anyway, Spears? If you lie, I'll crush your bones one at a time."

"You know very well who ordered his execution!" the manager snapped. "Your 'Sister' or whatever she is killed him. It looks like she abandoned you, too."

"No, Spears, her task was finished, vengeance carried out, and penance served. She didn't abandon me, she took her life in the way of our people when duty bound," the Conduit replied darkly. "You have your duties, she had hers, and I, as the Conduit, have mine." Mismatched Aurora Borealis eyes blazed at the unmoving reaper as she held the polished silver knife blade to her throat, pressing hard enough to draw a sliver of blood. "And my duty is to fulfill the Prophecy, which includes preserving the life of my mate." The female closed her eyes and in the language of her people recited, "I am the Flameless Fire that can never be extinguished. I am She who was born to die and live again for all Time. I am the Conduit. Vengeance is Mine!" At the final word, and at the exact predicted time as the Goddess intended, the lavender winter came to a cleanly sliced end, from jugular to carotid, taking care to avoid her lover's mark. 

~Adrian.~

*I know, Stella.*

~Will it feel as delightfully painful as I imagined? Make it memorable for me in case I forget.~

*You won't forget, I promise.*

The Rarity beckoned her silver love to come closer and hear her last words before her lights turned gray. "We...will...never...sever... I...love...you...Adrian..." she rasped with a smile on her face. "Still...gonna...get...you...back...for...that...time...you...stuffed...me in...the...coffin... Beautiful...eyes...that...never...lie..."

The mortician cracked a grin at the petite swearing to get her revenge on him for the long ago coffin fiasco. "I'll be looking forward to it, my love. You have the most beautiful, enchanting innocence in your strange eyes. They are the eyes of an exotic, rare predator; vicious, wild, and free, just like you. I love you, I always have, and I always will." He closed his eyes and a rogue tear slipped down his cheek as delicate fingers knotted through the mass of silver he calls hair, pulling him in for a final passionate kiss.

*If for _any_ reason you are taken from me, I will find you and get you back.*

~We will never sever.~

Delicate fingers slid out of silver silk leaving bloody streaks in their wake as two divine lovers broke their kiss. Legendary Death watched a gray fog roll in over the once beautiful brilliance of emerald and sapphire gems housed in obsidian, signaling the moment of death. Unfathomable, longing sadness merged with the fury in his eyes as the man of unnecessary shadows plunged the massive blade of his Death Scythe into his lover's chest, brutally granting her the pleasure of release.

*You are mine. NOTHING takes what's mine.*


	29. Silver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~  
> Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
> 
> So, this is the end of part 1. Thank you for reading and for kudos. I very much appreciate it.  
> I'm ending this twisted tale with the gift of sexy time.  
> Enjoy.

_~As the gently curved crescent blade of his Death Scythe pierces my flesh, I regard the silver haired reaper wielding it one last time before my vision is completely obscured by a dense gray fog. Even in deep, longing, profound sadness, his eyes are beautiful, and I find myself in a subconscious euphoria of silver as long as I can still look into those alluring green eyes that never lie. They are the same stunning eyes that held an enigmatic combination of emotions the first time I looked into them the day I woke up from the freak accident in his shop. They're the very same legendary hunter's eyes that held me in place like a stalking predator seeking out its prey in the dead of night. They're the same eyes full of phosphorescent warmth, compassion, and devotion reserved only for me as he pulled me back to him from between realities. They're the same acidic eyes burning with madness and righteous fury the day I was stolen from him. My silver love is my cult, and I am his goddess._

xxxxxx

_I, too, am a predator, and my silver haired lover is more than worthy of my palate as his eyes share the same unsated hunger as mine. He'd kiss me, and my emerald and sapphire eyes would light up the night like an Aurora Borealis. My silver love always had a way of making my eyes glow brighter and brighter until I was convinced they would go the way of a dying sun. He'd make my burning flesh crawl beneath my divinely bestowed tattoo as he ran his nails down my back while I rode him like a rare exotic animal; vicious, wild, free, and at my mercy. My eyes glowed brighter still, as I whipped lavender locks back in a dangerous arc during the increasing tempo of our deadly lover's dance. The tiny whimper, signalling that he was close, always made me give in to his demand to be closer to me. The irony of such a pleading noise sounding from a dominant, sadistic, powerful god brightened my eyes even more as I wrapped my legs around his waist with my body pressed against his, fingers knotting into long tendrils of silver while I slowed the tempo of our dance to a more sensual, teasing pace. My beautiful madman's wonderful nails would sneak into my lavender tresses, and upon finding an ideal place, allow the hand they called home to burrow into that place and pull down hard, feeding my obsession and sating my secret hunger as the vertebrae in my neck popped one after another in rapid succession, eliciting a cry of his name from my lips. Soft kisses intermingled with nibbles, and then sharp pain followed close behind when his sharp teeth tore open the flesh of his favorite spot on my neck, mercilessly unlocking my secret places. With a feral demand for more, I knew he knew that he unlocked my secret places, and thus, the tempo of our lover's dance sped up once more. With one arm wrapped tightly around my waist and the other trailing wonderful nails up my back and nestling themselves into my hair, Legendary Death captured my lips in an explosive kiss tasting of blood and wormwood. His wonderful nails dug deep into my skin as he lost himself in my name while simultaneously being the key unlocking the secrets to my secret places. As always, he reminded me that my eyes were glowing, and even_ he _could see my Perfect Beauty in the pitch darkness of the room._

_My silver haired lover always made me feel so beautiful and wanted, especially when he arranged my hair into beautiful works of art. It always amazed me how skilled he was at doing so, considering his bad eyesight. He is the only male (excluding Marcus) that I can remember ever loving me as I am, and the only male I can remember never objectifying me. I was a treasure to my silver reaper-body and soul-even when he fed my secret hunger for pain wrapped in pleasure. He's the only man that's ever been purely devoted to me without a hint of betrayal lurking behind his beautiful eyes. He is mine and I am his. We are One. He is as devoted to me as I am to him, and our eyes don't lie when we gaze into the other's and exchange that very sentiment._

_I don't want this split second, silver euphoria to end, but unfortunately, it must. At least I could manage to remember the passionate dawn of my fifty-sixth year before the gray fog rolls in. As sparkling silver dulls to gray, so do the stunning eyes of the legendary reaper standing above me. A few stray tears fall from his eyes and hit my skin like boiling water. Oh Goddess! I will truly miss being wrapped in the arms of Legendary Death!~_

*You are mine. NOTHING takes what's mine.*

_~If only he knew. If only he could fully understand. I am as the Goddess determines me to be.~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be taking a month off between now and uploading the follow up multi chap. I may throw in a one shot or two should inspiration strike, after all, sleep and I are strangers. I seriously need to get more work done on it before I start uploading it. I'm old school. I do first drafts before uploads.
> 
> ***Update***
> 
> I'm preparing for the grand finale, and as you can see, previously missed structural errors needed to be made. I'm too old to let that slide. Some minor tweaking had to be done to streamline the narrative of the series for the sake of consistency. There I go being meticulous again. Enjoy.


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